


Pirates: Welcome to Tortuga

by LadySparrow01



Series: Pirates [1]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Golden Age of Piracy, Historical References, Mermaids, Pre-Canon, Pre-Curse of the Black Pearl, Prequel, Tortuga, disaster bi heroine, friends at first sight, grand theft aquatic, mutual pining for the sea, rebellious captain's daughter, references to the Price of Freedom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySparrow01/pseuds/LadySparrow01
Summary: 'Emera had never before been looked at the way Jack was looking at her now. He saw her. He understood the language of her heart. He felt as she did. They were the same. "Come on." He said, his soft voice only for her, "Come with me, Love." He held out his hand. Did he know what he was offering her?'Emera has always wanted to live a life of adventure. However, her father has other plans. When they put in at Tortuga, Emera is swept off her feet by both the Pirate Port and the strange young man who calls himself Captain Jack Sparrow. Adventure and mystery surround Jack, calling to Emera's curious nature like a siren's song. When Jack asks her to accompany him on his latest exploit, Emera must decide if fulfilling a life long dream is worth risking the future she's always wanted.The first in a prequel series set before 'Curse of the Black Pearl'.
Relationships: Anamaria/Jack Sparrow
Series: Pirates [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704682
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	1. The Girl and the Sparrow

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there. If at any point during this story you decide it's just not for you, would you please consider leaving a constructive comment on why it is you chose not to continue reading? I am always looking to improve my work and appreciate feedback that I can build from. Thank you so much. And I hope you enjoy.
> 
> This work is also Published on Fanfiction.net

The narrow alley way was cool and quiet compared to the busy Tortuga street that fed into it. The tall, plaster coated buildings on either side were just enough to block out the heat of the Caribbean sun. Even though it was only spring, the air was already ripe with thick, muggy tropical heat.

Emera Flint ran a hand through her short-cropped, coppery hair as she cut down the alley. In her excitement to explore the Pirate port, she hadn't really been paying attention to where she was going. And now she was rather a bit lost. She didn't really mind not knowing where she was, though. To her mind, it was all part of the adventure. She was just happy to have been trusted to go off on her own for the first time in her life.

Emera's father, Captain 'Bloody' John Flint of the Pirate Ship _The Rose_ , had been reluctant to bring her along on this voyage to begin with. Emera had officially joined her father's crew, to his displeasure, only a few months ago. And up until now, all she had been permitted to do was work aboard ship while he conducted trade between the tightly knit Bahama Islands. This was Emera's first real voyage and Tortuga was her first port beyond the borders of the Bahama archipelago that she had spent her whole life confined in. Bargaining for her independence while on shore had been an ordeal and a half to say the least. But finally her father had relented, allowing Emera to wander the town as any of his crew might.

Emera reveled in it. Here, there were no peering gazes or questioning glances to contend with. No should's or ought-to's. It was just her and the soft sound of her boots against the dirt as she walked down the alley way. And it lasted perhaps all of seven minutes.

The tight space exploded into a storm of sound, stopping Emera in her tracks. The clatter and splintering of wood echoed off the close set plastered walls. Then, all at once, a young man appeared further up the alley trailing wreckage in his wake. Emera watched as his momentum carried him straight into the wall opposite. He seemed to almost ricochet off of the smooth surface, catching himself and pushing off the wall to assist in his mad sprint down the alley straight towards Emera.

As the young man rapidly neared, a pair of angry pursuers stumbled over the remains of what might have been a crate or a set of window shutters. They tore down the alley after the young man some paces behind his head start. And they did not look pleased in the slightest. Emera pressed herself flat against one of the walls in the hope that all three men would simply go racing past her.

Emera watched as the young man, now a mere few meters away from where she stood, shot a quick glance over his shoulder with an odd sound of distress. She had never seen someone run like he did. It was a ridiculous, flailing sort of run that consisted of far too much arm and not nearly enough leg. As she watched his progress, he finally noticed her and frowned. She pressed herself as flat as she could to the wall, but knew it wasn't enough to avoid being collided with. She shut her eyes tight and waited for it all to be over.

Emera felt the brush of the young man's frock coat as he shot past her. Then, she felt his hand clamp down on her wrist. Before she could even open her eyes she was being yanked down the alley after him.

"Run!" He shouted, his voice high and tight.

There wasn't time to think about it. She was already being dragged by her wrist behind him. Emera's legs worked automatically, propelling her as fast as they could. For one fleeting moment fear flooded her senses. What did he want with her? Was this some sort of strange kidnapping? Would she be press-ganged into joining a whaling ship and die up in the frozen wastelands of the north? As Emera's thoughts spiraled out from under her she looked back over her shoulder. The two men chasing them filled the narrow alley way almost completely. If she had stayed pressed against the wall, they would have barreled her clean over. And from the looks on their faces, they probably wouldn't have cared. Her fear shifted away from kidnappings and whaling ships, settling into the general panic of being mixed up into whatever it was that had transpired between the three men surrounding her.

"Get that!" The young man called, pointing to a stack of wooden planks propped up against the wall just ahead of them.

Emera reacted without thinking. Her hand shot out as they passed, catching the planks and sent them clattering into the space behind her, blocking the way. She didn't dare look back again. It was enough to just hear how close the other two men were behind them. Ahead, the alley was no longer a perfect straightaway. It curved and bowed, forcing Emera and the young man attached to her wrist to dance around the walls at speed. She very nearly kissed a portion of exposed masonry as the young man cut to the right.

"Watch it!" She snapped, her forearm slamming against the stone in place of her mouth.

"Sorry!" He called, "In here!"

The young man threw himself through a gap that couldn't have been more than two and a half feet across. Emera half-flung-herself through the opening as she was pulled in after him. She had hoped, in the instant before she squeezed through the entrance, that a street or yard sat on the other side of the gap. Instead, she was swallowed up by a cramped nook hardly big enough for one person to stand in let alone two. The sudden darkness was blinding.

Emera blinked the shadows from her eyes as she and the young man became a tangle of limbs. Even with her back pressed into the cold, rough surface of the wall there was no space between them. Pressed together, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest and the warmth of his skin through his shirt. His breath grazed her cheek. He smelt of stale alcohol, sea salt, and sweat.

"Who-?" Emera started.

"Shh." He cut her off and his hand closed over her mouth.

Emera struggled for a moment, trying to twist out of his grip, before the sound of hurried footfalls made her stop. The two men chasing them were moving steadily closer to the nook. Emera shrunk away from the opening which only pressed her further into the young man. The desperate need to get as far away from the narrow opening as possible took control of her body. She pressed herself into the young man, trying to move so that he would be between her and the opening. A low groan that came from the back of his throat escaped his lips as wedged against him. His fingers released from where they had still been locked around her wrist and his arm snaked between her back and the wall, holding her even more tightly to him as she shifted.

For a moment the only thing Emera could see in the impossibly narrow space was his face. His dark eyes took in the curves of her features with a weight that made her heart pound in her chest. Close as they were, he could probably feel it. He leaned in close and his cheek brushed against hers, his hand still over her mouth, as his lips found her ear.

"Stop. Moving." His low voice was barely more than a whisper.

With they way he was now holding her, Emera couldn't have moved even if she wanted to. Just then the two men who had been chasing them passed the opening of the nook and stopped. They were much bigger than they had seemed during the chase. Emera's breath caught in her throat as she watched the pair of them through the narrow gap.

"They couldn't have gotten far." One said.

"What about here?" The other pointed directly into the nook.

Emera shut her eyes. All she had wanted was to explore a new town and now she was going to die at the hands of two strangers while locked into a compromising position with a third. The longest moment in the history of all humankind passed as the two men stood in silence, studying the entrance to the nook.

Then one of them finally said, "No, they wouldn't fit through there. Too small. Come on, let's keep looking."

If she hadn't been pinned between the young man and the wall, Emera would have collapsed from relief. The two men in the alley hurried away, their footsteps fading the further they went. Emera tried to pull her face out from under the young man's hand again, but he wouldn't have it. He only shook his head slowly, his dark eyes giving her a silent warning to keep still.

Emera silently counted to ten in order to put as much distance between herself and the other two men as she possibly could. Then, opening her mouth under the young man's hand, she brought her teeth down hard against his palm. His grip came away instantly with a sharp yelp of pain. Emera squeezed out of his grasp and forced herself through the opening, scrambling back into the alley. The young man clambered out right behind her with much swearing and grumbling. She tried to dart back the way they'd come, but he made a grab at her and caught her by the back of her brown brocade waistcoat. Emera managed to twist out of both and would have darted down the alley at top speed if the young man had not started speaking.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He told her, raising his hands in surrender and dropping her waistcoat.

She studied the earnest look on his face as she scooped up the piece of clothing, trying to catch a trace of lie in his features. There wasn't any. Only a calm honesty that settled around the lines and edges of his face. A face that was all high cheekbones, sharp jaw, and strong nose arranged in a pleasing sort of way. His fair skin was sun-coloured from long hours spent out of doors. And, like Emera, he wore kohl around his eyes to protect against sea-blindness. His long, dark hair was matted in places and braided or beaded in others. He kept it out of his eyes with a grey-blue bandanna. And though he was broader through the shoulders, he only stood about an inch taller than she did. He had seemed bigger, more intimidating, when they were tangled up together. Now she rather fancied her chances in out running him should it come to that. But his deep brown eyes, intelligent and calculating, held her gaze in a way that made Emera's face go hot.

"Who are you?" She couldn't stop herself from spitting the question, unsettled and uncomfortable as she was.

"Who am I?" He blinked several times as though he didn't understand the question.

He half-looked as though Emera had just insulted his whole family in one breath. A series of incoherent sounds squeezed their way between his tight pressed lips as he looked at her.

Then, in a spluttering mess, he managed to say, "Who am I? I'm Jack the sparrow! _Captain._ Captain Jack the sparrow! _Captain Jack Sparrow!_ That's who I am!"

Emera doubted very much that this flabbergasted young man was actually a Captain. He was probably only a year or so older than Emera was, with the stubbley start of a beard covering his chin. Somehow it made him look younger than he probably wanted it to. But he was dressed like a sailor. He wore dark breeches, boots, and a simple brown waistcoat that sat open over a too-big shirt. The shirt hung open at the collar, exposing part of his chest, and he had wrapped a redish sash around his middle in some kind of effort to make it fit better. Tucked into the sash, barely noticeable, was a pistol. It's butt end stuck out the top, sitting just under his left arm. However, the sword belt he wore over the sash was empty. His stormy-grey frock coat was also slightly too big for him. The cuffs of the sleeves hid all but his fingers and the hem fell well past his knees which only made him look even younger. Emera couldn't help but think that if he had worn a hat, it probably would have come down over his eyes to complete the look.

"I don't know what that means." Emera said flatly.

She really didn't. The name was clearly supposed to be significant, but Emera had never heard it before. Was he just scrabbling for something that would impress her? If he was, she wasn't sure why he thought a name like Jack the sparrow, Captain or otherwise, would do the job.

"Have you not heard of me?" He raised an eyebrow, stepping towards her.

"Should I have?" She asked, taking a step back.

This made his eye twitch, "I'm the man who vanished out from under the eyes of the East India Trading Company."

Emera shrugged.

"Doesn't ring even the tiniest of bells, eh?" He relented with a shake of his head, mild disappointment playing across his features.

"I don't get out much." She offered as way of an explanation.

Jack eyed her, nodding as though he should have seen that fact written across her face. He turned in a slow circle to survey the narrow alley while curiosity ate away at Emera's insides, panging off her ribs. He couldn't have really escaped from the East India Trading Company, could he? And if he had, how had he done it? The promise of a story was something Emera had little power to resist. But she forced down the questions that gnawed her innards. When Jack's gaze fell on Emera again, he smiled a little as though he could see the struggle within her.

"Would you like to?" He asked, "Get out, I mean?"

"Of here? Gladly." She replied, knowing that probably wasn't what he meant.

He tilted his head to one side and took a step towards her. He swayed on his feet as he walked. Was he drunk? Emera took another step back. If this kept up, she'd be backed against a wall again.

"Look, something has brought us together. Call it fate... destiny..." Jack mused.

"Unfortunate circumstance." She offered.

He ignored her, "The point is, we were brought together for a reason. I find myself in need of help and you look like just the lad for the job. I need you to talk to a girl for me."

So, he had mistaken her for a boy. It was a common enough mistake. Emera's androgynous looks, short cropped hair, and boyish build allowed her to pass for a young man well enough. It even came in handy from time to time.

"I don't think there's much I could do." Emera told him, "Not unless this girl of yours happens to enjoy the attentions of young ladies as well."

Jack tilted his head to one side again, taking her meaning, and said softly, "Ah, I see. Forgive my mistake, Miss...?"

"Flint." Emera replied, then shrugged, "There's nothing to forgive. Apart from your clear attempt to press-gang me into whatever nonsensical scheme you're at the center of, that is."

He flashed her a smile, "Miss Flint. I assure you there is no nonsensical scheme or otherwise debaucherous intent in my request."

"Then why not speak to this girl yourself?" Emera asked with another shrug, "You seem to have a way with words about you."

"You flatter me." His smile faded and he said, "The situation is unique. She, the girl, doesn't like me much. Or at least, she doesn't right now. Matters of the heart and all that."

The kind of silence that begs to be filled settled between them. Emera thumbed the silver coin pendant that hung from a chain around her neck. She traced the familiar blue and white wave made of enamel that decorated its silver surface as she thought. She had never been good with small talk, let alone conversations of this nature. She barely had any experience in romantic exchanges of her own, let alone other peoples'. A stab of sympathy went through her all the same. She tried to shove it down into some dark corner of herself where she could ignore it, but it wouldn't budge. Emera had to bite the inside of her lip to keep herself from rolling her eyes at what she was about to do.

"If..." She started, "if I were to speak to this girl for you, what exactly would you want me to say to her?"

Jack's eyes lit up, "I would ask only that you inquire as to her good health on my behalf and mention that I wish to repent for the actions which have infuriated her so deeply that she, in her words, 'hates me with the burning passion of a thousand suns.' Let's go."

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and flashed her a smile. Then he whirled around and started back down the alley. It seemed simple enough, but Emera certainly wasn't convinced that she should go anywhere with him. They'd only just met.

"Hold to, I haven't agreed to anything just yet." She told him.

He spun around again, his coat flaring with the motion, and frowned, "You haven't? Funny that."

"Aye, funny." She nodded warily.

He offered her his arm, and nodded in the direction he had been headed, "Do come on, though."

She didn't move. Emera studied him for a moment. She didn't trust this man as far as she could spit. He had trouble written all over him.

"It'll be good fun." He added.

He was definitely trouble. But the real question was simple. Was this Jack Sparrow dangerous? Or was he mostly harmless despite all his being strange? Emera wasn't sure which it was. And to make matters worse, there was something compelling about him too. The way he held himself with such confidence, the tilt of his head, his smile... the way he looked at her. And the consuming curiosity he had ignited within her with only a few words. He grinned and nodded down the alley again, waggling his elbow at her. The temptation to link her arm through his was so surprisingly overwhelming that it scared her a little.

"I don't know you." She told him.

He raised an eyebrow at her, that charmingly wide smile stretched across his face, "Then come along all the same and get to know me on the way."

Emera didn't know why she did it. It would probably be a mystery that would haunt her for the rest of her natural life. But as she linked her arm through Jack's something inside of her seemed to click into place. A voice in the back of her mind was trying to tell her that this was a mistake, that she should run as fast as she could back to the Harbour Inn and her father and never look back. But she couldn't hear it over the gleam in Jack's eyes as he looked at her.

"Tell me, Miss Flint," Jack started cheerily, leaning in close as though he were about to share a secret, "what do you know of sea turtles?"


	2. Miss Mercier

_The Gritty Keel_ was dim, the dark wood of the floor and tables eating up what little of the afternoon light managed to make its way in through the dingy pub windows. Emera stood in the door way, observing the grimy room from over Jack's shoulder. She wrinkled her nose. The sweet, sickly smell of drink that had been spilt again and again permeated the small space like a fog. The hand full of other patrons didn't seem to notice or care. They kept to themselves, spread out across the space in groups no larger than two at the most. The pub was quiet with the silence that hangs around daytime drinkers.

"Are you sure this is where your girl will be?" Emera half-whispered to Jack.

He glanced over his shoulder with a smile that dripped confidence, "Without a doubt."

With that he led her across the room to a table near the back. He practically danced between the tightly spaced tables, his swaying gait nearly causing him to collide with the chairs. Emera followed and plunked herself down in the closest chair at his selected table. Then she watched as Jack rearranged things. He moved the only other chair around the table so that it sat right next to Emera's, back against the wall. Then he dashed, or rather staggered, across the pub. He dragged the potted plant that had been sitting by the bar back to the table with him. The large, copper planter groaning against the wood of the floor as it went. Every head in the place turned. Jack didn't seem to notice, but Emera couldn't help but sink in her chair until the table was almost level with her chin. Their audience watched as Jack adjusted the leafy fronds of the plant with fading interest. Emera only hoped that their irritation would fade too. Finally, Jack wedged himself into his chair, the fronds of the plant all but in his lap.

"Finished?" Emera raised her eyebrows at him, her voice a snarky hiss.

"Yep." Jack nodded, pleased with himself as he got comfortable in his chair.

Emera stared up at him, dumbfounded by what she had just watched. If there was any truth to the story he'd told her during their walk over, then he really had gotten sunbaked on that island. His brain was clearly cooked beyond repair.

He looked down at her and frowned a little, "What are you doing? You look ridiculous."

"Oh, I look ridiculous, do I?" Emera shot back under her breath.

"Aye, you do." He said plainly, then he waved her off and said, "Go and fetch us a drink, will you?"

A beat passed where all Emera could do was continue to stare at him. But he was clearly serious. She rolled her eyes and stood up, knowing there was no sense in giving the pub any more of a reason to kick them out. They had already rearranged the furniture, they might as well pay for a couple of drinks to make up for it.

Emera crossed to the bar, well aware of the side glances she was gathering as she went. The man behind the bar gave her an unamused sort of look and flicked a towel over his shoulder as she approached.

"Comfortable?" He asked, sarcasm heavy in his tone.

Emera practically flinched at the question, her insides squirming, "Sorry. Yes. He's... daft."

"I can see that." The explanation had no affect on his dry demeanor, "Drinkin' are we?"

Emera fumbled through the order apologetically, barely able to look the man in the eye. When she returned to the table Jack hardly seemed to notice. His attention was locked on the front door as he sat peering through the fronds of the plant like a hunter in a hide. Emera slid his drink across the table to him with one finger, certain she had made a mistake in agreeing to what was rapidly revealing itself to be a ridiculous plan.

"Ta very much." He said and took a quick drink without ever breaking his staring contest with the door.

Emera suppressed a groan and sipped at her own drink, which tasted slightly of lemon and cinnamon. It was good and she savoured each sip, knowing that when shore leave was over she would be back to the watery, porridge-like substance that passed for grog on bored _The Rose_. So she sipped at her drink and tried to ignore the silence that had fallen between her and Jack. After a while, she couldn't stand it any more. It gnawed at her from the inside out.

So, just to say something, she whispered, "You know, I don't believe a word of that story you told me."

"Do you not?" Jack kept his eyes on the door, "What's not to believe?"

"The fact that you just found all that rope. What, did it just fall from the sky?" She pressed.

"Details." Jack waved her off, still not meeting her gaze, "I tell you a fantastical adventure story fraught with daring and brilliance and animal magnetism, and all you can think about is rope?"

Emera suppressed a grin by taking another drink, then she said, "Truth lies in the details, Mr Sparrow."

"Captain." He corrected her, his eyes darting to her face for a fraction of a second before returning to the door.

Emera studied his face carefully. Was he nervous? His gaze was very intent and his lips where pressed tight together, straining his jaw. This girl, whoever she was, clearly meant a lot to him if simply waiting for her arrival was such an ordeal. Emera decided it best not to tease him about details after all. He was plainly going through something.

"Anyway," She went on, "You never actually told me how it was you came to be on that island on the first place."

Emotion flashed across Jack's face at her words. Then it vanished back under the surface of his skin. He shifted uncomfortably. It was as though his clothes were suddenly too tight. Either way, he was quiet for such a long time that Emera was certain her question had hit on a mark he would rather not talk about.

"It's not a pretty story." He murmured, and Emera wasn't certain if he was talking to her or himself.

His tone was so distant and full of feeling. Emera glanced down to where his hand rested on the table between them. For a moment she was tempted to take it in hers, to offer him some kind of compassion for whatever it was he had gone through. In stead, she brought her glass to her lips again and knocked back a mouthful. It wasn't her place to pry into his life. If he didn't want to talk about it, than she wouldn't press the matter. Still, she felt she needed to say something.

"Mr Sparrow, I-" She began

Jack gave a start and snapped, "Captain. Shush."

Whatever feelings he had been repressing were quickly replaced all together in favor of what looked to be sheer panic. Emera followed his gaze to the front door and saw the cause of his sudden change.

The most beautiful girl Emera had ever seen was crossing from the door to the bar. She couldn't have been much older than Emera was herself. Her dark skin almost glowed in the low afternoon light. She was tall and slender and moved with such ease that her every motion was utterly captivating. Her clothes were simple and clean. She wore a plain grey dress and sensible, brown ankle boots. The outfit spoke of functionality and practicality. Her black hair was gathered loosely at the base of her neck, a few strands hanging here or there. They framed her round face, drawing attention to her black, almond shaped eyes and full, well bowed lips.

"That's the girl?" Emera breathed.

"That," Jack agreed, "is the girl."

Emera's heart shot through the roof of her chest and clean into her throat. She barely had any experience talking to girls her own age, let alone heart-achingly beautiful ones. How was she going to do this? She turned to Jack, her mouth open for words she couldn't form.

Jack, seeing this, leaned in over the table and said urgently, "No questioning, just doing. Go now. Before she sees me and the whole thing gets spoiled."

Emera reluctantly got to her feet.

"Remember what I said." Jack whispered, grabbing her shirt sleeve with one hand while counting off his talking points with the other, "Ask after her heath. Tell her I'm sorry. Simple and easy to remember. Go."

He released her and shooed her away with both hands before ducking behind the plant. He was like a child who believed himself invisible if he himself couldn't see the person he was hiding from. Only Jack was very clearly peaking out between the leafy fronds of the plant. Emera could only roll her eyes again.

As she approached the bar her stomach rolled with butterflies. How was she even supposed to start? Glancing back at Jack for help, he merely flashed her a broad smile, mouthed something she couldn't make out and gestured to the girl. Emera sighed. He was completely useless. When she reached the bar she gripped the counter so tight her fingers ached. If she could just say 'hello' maybe it would be alright. Emera opened her mouth, but anything that might have followed was lost.

The front door of the pub was kicked open with a bang like cannon fire. The two men that Jack had been running from earlier stormed into the room. In an instant they could see where he was still trying to hide behind the plant.

"Sparrow!" One bellowed so loudly the windows practically shook.

The girl turned to look where the man had indicated, her voice a mixture of shock and rage, "Sparrow? _Jack_ the sparrow? Jack!"

Before she even finished speaking the two men were plowing through the tables between them and Jack. Emera and the girl could only watch as the bore down on their mutual acquaintance like warships.

"You have something of ours, Sparrow!" One of the men shouted as he over turned an empty table.

"Give us the map, and we'll let you keep most of those sticky fingers of yours." The other growled through his teeth.

"Gentle men." Jack poked his head out from behind the plant as though he had only just realized the men were there, "How pleasant to see you again. And so soon. Was there some kind of unfortunate mix up during our dealings earlier?"

He stood as he spoke. The two men drew closer and closer, completely unamused by Jack's overly-conversational tone. Emera wanted to scream at him to do anything but just stand there, however the words stuck in her throat with the fear of getting involved anymore than she already was. All she seemed able to do was watch.

The two men were practically on top of Jack now. It seemed, though, as if that was just what he wanted. And in a flash it all became clear. Jack's boot met the edge of the table and his back met the wall, giving him purchase enough to send the heavy table hurtling directly into both men. It caught one square in the chest. He bent double over the table as his friend recovered.

"We really must chat, but I'm afraid I haven't the time just now. You really must speak with my valet." Jack explained causally, leaning one hand on the chair Emera had been sitting in.

The man closed the distance between himself and Jack with the aim of tackling him to the ground. Jack sidestepped this easily, twirling around the chair so that it stayed between him and the man. When the man lunged at him a second time, Jack caught him with the legs of the chair and pushed him away. The man staggered back, right into the plant. His legs went out from under him and he, the chair, and the plant all went tumbling into a jumbled heap against the wall. Jack, in the meantime, was coming toward Emera and the girl in a rush.

"Always such a pleasure Antonio." Jack called over his shoulder, "Give my love to your sister."

In one smooth movement, Jack ducked between Emera and the girl and a pouch, that sounded as though it were full of coins, landed on the bar. Jack placed one hand on Emera's lower back and another on the girls.

"Miss Flint. Miss Mercier." He guided them towards the door, "Right this way, if you please."

With more than just seemly haste the newly formed trio left the pub. The second they were outside they broke into a flat sprint, tearing away from the building. A fit of giggles threatened to overtake Emera as she followed Jack's flailing run for the second time that day. They raced up the nearest street, turned down a walkway, and finally slowed when they reached a small public garden.

Emera braced her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She had never run so fast in all her life and in the span of a few short hours she had done it twice. The effort was wreaking havoc with her land-sickness. It came back in full force as she stood hunched over, threatening to either make her properly sick right there in the grass or else fall over. She gulped back air and prayed that neither of those things would happen.

"Jack... the sparrow..." Miss Mercier managed between gasps.

"Anamaria." Jack flashed her what probably would have been a charming grin if he hadn't also been fighting to catch his breath, "We really do need to stop meeting like this, you and I. I and you. Us."

Anamaria looked ready to rip his head clean off his shoulders. They stood staring at one another as tension, so palpable even Emera could feel it, grew between them. It was thick and awkward and stank of heavy emotion. Emera was definitely going to be sick.

"Shut up." Anamaria snapt at him, "Why is it that whenever you show up to cause trouble, I'm the one that ends up paying for it?"

Jack blinked at her a few times, then said, "Am I supposed to shut up or answer your question? I can do one or the other, but not both, Love. That would be impossible. You know, you really do ask far too much of-"

"Oh, do just shut up!" Anamaria snapt again, exasperated, then she turned to Emera, "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from him. He'll drive you to ruin and drop you in a second."

"That's not what happened." Jack protested.

"Shut." Anamaria brandished a finger at him, "I'm not speaking to you. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you that I would never speak to you again."

"Yet here we are." He flashed her another smile.

"Look, I don't want to get into the middle of anything here." Emera cut in before Anamaria could tell Jack to shut up again, "Miss Mercier, Mr Sparrow wants to know if your well and says he's sorry for making you hate him. Or something to that affect. Mr Sparrow, can I go now? I've done my bit. Far as I can tell, we're squared."

"What are you talking about?" Anamaria crossed her arms, shooting Jack a sharp glare now and again from the corner of her eye.

"He wanted me to speak to you for him." Emera replied, finally feeling well enough to straighten up again, "I don't really know why. His reasoning is daft. I can't keep pace with it."

Anamaria considered this, then turned to Jack and arched one of her perfect eyebrows, "So you're sorry, are you?"

"Endlessly." He put one hand on his heart.

She eyed him up and down, "I don't believe you. And sorry won't fix the deal you've just blown with whatever it was that happened back there. Sorry or not, never means never Jack. Just leave me be."

With that she turned and stalked away, her grey skirts billowing out behind her like a sail. Jack watched her go, his head tilted to one side and a forlorn sort of look in his eyes. Emera recognized that she had finally reached the end of whatever sad little story she had fallen into by chance. It was done now. She ran a hand through her short hair and tried to think of something encouraging to say. But nothing came to her.

So, she said, "Well, It's been interesting to know you Mr Sparrow. Good luck with your girl. She might still come around."

He didn't really seem to hear her. He just hummed a little at what she said and kept staring at the place where Anamaria had disappeared around the nearest building. Emera sighed and turned to go, thumbing the coin pendent of her necklace. It would take her ages to find her way back to the Inn now that she had spent half the day running around town with no notion of where she was going. She made a start, leaving Jack to himself, certain that her part in his life was now done.


	3. Only a Girl

Emera sneezed for the hundreth time as she finally reached the Inn. While she had stalked off through the garden, leaving Jack to whatever fate awaited him, a breeze had come up from the sea. It stirred up all the plantlife in the garden and now the back of Emera's throat itched like she had swallowed poison ivy. The sillohet of the Inn against the quickly darkening caribbean sky was a welcome sight.

The streets were still somewhat docile despite the late hour. Emera suspected that the later it got, the livelier they would be. Unfortunetly, she wasn't premitted to see that side of Tortuga. She was to be safely locked away in her room long before the excitment of the town took off. And she was already pushing her luck for another unsupervised outing by arriving back so late. The sun had already set and the last touches of its light were being swallowed up by the blossoming night sky.

The Inn was nearly empty. Captain Flint was nowhere to be seen. There were a few people in the dining hall and a clerk sat dozing behind the main desk. Emera breathed a soft sigh of releif and headed directly for the staircase. All she wanted now was to wash up and rest without any more excitement. And if she hurried, she could make play that she had arrived back ages ago when her father turned up to check in on her. She made for the stairs. As she stared up the first few steps a voice came from behind her.

"One of the men saw you in town today." Her father said in an unsettlingly calm manner.

Emera turned. He was just coming in through the door, shutting it slowly behind himself. Had she been caught?

"Oh?" She tried to keep her voice from going tight.

"Aye." He brushed one of the sleeves of his heavy frock coat, "I'm told you were running like a mad woman out of a pub in the company of two other young people. Another girl and a young man. I'm also told that the pub in question, upon investigation, was in shambles. The bartender names you and your friends as the culprets."

Emera's heart sank into the depths of her stomach. This was so much worse than being caught out for coming back a little late.

"Would you care too," He paused, searching for the right word, " _elaborate_ on what happened?"

She felt like she was going to be sick again.

"I..." She started, but the words stuck fast in her throat, "We..."

He waited, his eyes never once leaving her face as she fumbled to make sense.

"I expected better of you, Master Flint." He said calmly when it became clear that she was incapable of explaining herself, "My hands are full enough as it is without having to worry after you. We tried letting you go off alone and it hasn't worked. Tomorrow you'll be accompanied. And that'll be the end of it."

Emera bit the inside of her cheek to distract from the hollow ache slowly forming in her chest.

"Is that clear, Master Flint?" He concluded.

"Aye, Sir." Her voice had a watery edge.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard, then he said more gently, "Tortuga is dangerous, Emera. And you are still only a girl."

The sting of the word 'only' was like a slap across the face.

"I know you fancy yourself a Pirate. But I don't want you to get hurt." He went on, "We were lucky today. Let's not needlessly tempt fate, alright? And if you're still bent on this course in a few years then we'll try again. When you're older. Now get some rest. You look like Hell."

Emera had begged and bargained and practically done backflips in order for a chance at freedom. Promises were made on both sides. A deal had been struck. And now all of that time and effort was for nothing. She had slipped up and it cost her everything. She hated herself for it.

Emera quashed down her feelings as she hurried up the stairs. When she reached her room she glanced at herself in the mirror. Only a girl. No matter how short she cut her hair or how boyish her figure was or how compident a sailor she was, she was still only a girl. She thought about Jack and the way he had mistaken her for a boy. Lots of people did at first glance. But that wasn't what Emera wanted either. She didn't want her options in life to be tied to being either a girl or a boy.

She just wanted it not to matter.

Emera slumpped down in the chair beside the narrow window that looked out over the street below, thumbing her coin pendant. She watched as people began to gather together. They laughed and talked with one another as torches and lamps were lit. Somewhere, far away, music was being playing. People were probably dancing. Emera closed her eyes and tried to picture herself among them. It was as close as she would ever get.

She had spent a great deal of her youth sitting just like this at the window in her bedchamber, gazing out at the sea while trying to picture herself in the company of people she had never met. It was how she had survived growing up on the small island of Clearwater Bay. She would daydream of the life she would have when she finally grew up. A life of adventure and exploration and freedom. The reality was very different from how she had pictured it as a child.

After a while Emera grew tired of people watching. She had been forbiden from exploring the town, but not from sitting in the dining hall while she ate. She went down and ordered herself a plate of roast chicken, greens, and a small ale. And she sat herself at one end of the long, communal dining table to eat it. The dining hall wasn't particularly full, but there were enough people to create at least a little taste of the excitement that could be heard going on outside.

A man was standing with one foot braced against the bench on his side of the table. He was speaking loudly, including the whole room, in his recounting of an increadible tale. Emera, who had come in part way through the story, had to piece it together as he went on. From what she gathered, he had witnessed some kind of Pirate attack while at sea.

"I'd never seen nothing like it." His gaze swept across the captivated faces of his listeners, "As black as the night itself, it were. It glided across the glassy sea towards us, bringing an unnatural fog in its wake. Our ship shuddered, sensing the demon baring down on us. Turning a broadside, they fired a single shot across our bow. And at once our Captain ordered the white flag to be run up. No sense in standing against the Devil's own ship. But that didn't stop these demons.

"They let loose with a volly that shook the very sea out from under us. I swear you could hear the screams of me fellow crewmen for miles around as our ship was torn apart by the blow. But that old phantom ship was silent as the grave. Not a soul aboard her, I'd swear by my life. She rained Hell on us 'til we were good and dead in the water... then she boarded us. They came out of the very night itself, these phantom men, crawling arm over arm down from our own rigging and up from the sea. A sure blow wouldn't drop them, only made them smile.

"They took us for all we had. The stores and rations and anything else they could get their hands on. Like they was looking for something. And when they didn't find it, they set us ablaze and vanished. And just like that," He snapt his fingers for emphasis, "clean gone. Like they'd never been. It was surely only by God's own good will that I survived, set adrift in a life boat for seven long days. The sight of that ghost ship is one I won't soon forget, I'll tell you."

His crowed murmered in awe. Emera shifted in her seat, egar to hear more. But apparently he had said all he had to say. He sat himself down and recieved a few hearty thumbs of admeration on the back from his peers. Emera caught the attention of the barmaid and waved her over.

"Something I can get you?" She asked.

"I was only wondering what it was that man was taking about?" Emera asked.

The barmaid smiled, "Oh, just another tall-tale about _The Black Pearl_. That's old Jeb. He comes in here twice a week and tells that story, but I know for a fact he hasn't set foot on bord ship for nearly six months. He just tells his story and passes the rest of the night on free drinks from people who think surviving something he ain't even seen means he's some kind of hero."

"How do you know he's lying?" Emera pressed, genuinly curious.

The barmaid just shrugged, "Simple. _The Black Pearl_ never leaves any survivors. Everyone knows that. If he'd seen it, he'd be at the bottom of the ocean, not here running his mouth."

"Right. Thanks." Emera nodded and the barmaid went about her buisness, clearing a bunch of glasses from the other side of the table.

Emera had heard pleanty of stories about the infamous _Black Pearl_. It had come out of nowhere a year ago and had been picking off ships left and right all across the Caribbean ever since. No one knew any more about it than that, but everyone loved to speculate. Some people said it was a ghost ship, come back from the dead to seek revenge on the vessel that had sunk it. Others said it was sent by the old Gods as punishment for the greed that now plagued the sea. It was a phantom, a blight, a curse. And anyone worth their salt was dead afraid of it.

From what she had heard, Emera couldn't help but agree with the barmaid. It seemed unlikely that the man now enjoying several complimentery drinks had ever set eyes on the vessal. It was as ship that sowed distruction and reaped only death. No one saw it and survived. But everyone loved a good ghost story. Particularly, if it came from the sea. So what was the harm in a few people telling wild stories that couldn't possibly be true?

As the night wore on, others took up the possition of story teller. Some told of haunted treasure on distant shores. Some spoke more of _The Black Pearl_ as well as _The Silent Mary_ and _The Flying Dutchmen_. And others recounted tales of the Pirate Lords. Sea-beasts and brutal battles and long lost gold filled the small dining hall well into the night. Emera sat in her small slice of the room, drinking in every word. It was this very thing, listening to stories, that had awoken her insatiable need to lead a life on the seas. The world was a vast and strange place. And she needed to see it all. Just listening to stories had never been enough for her.

Emera wanted nothing more in her life than the freedom to live those stories for herself.


	4. Adventures in Chaperoning

In a moment of self righteous spite, as she lay on her mattress the next morning, Emera considered out-rightly disobeying her father's orders. The sun was only just beginning to think about rising. If she hurried, she could be out of the Inn and long gone before he even realized what she'd done. And then, in the following hours as he tried to track her down, she could savour another small taste of freedom. It was a brilliant, wonderful, exciting idea. But she also knew it was about the stupidest thing she could possibly do.

The price for such a rebellious excursion was far too high to make it worth it. When her father caught her, and he would, he would send her back to the ship. And then he would take her back to Clearwater. Her dreams of a life at sea would come to a crushing end and she would spend the rest of her natural life being told where to go and what to do and how to act and when to speak to who. And that would be the death of her.

Later, when the sun had properly risen and all thoughts of running wild had left her head, Emera stood outside the Inn as her father laid down the rules for that day. Lewis Perhson, carpenter's mate, stood awkwardly to one side as he waited for the discussion to come to an end. Emera had been a little surprised to see him. As far as she knew, he had still been on the ship. But it wouldn't have been shocking at all to learn that Captain Flint had sent for him the previous night. He was the logical choice for the task of rebellious-daughter-watching. He would do the job diligently and Emera, liking him, would be less likely to try slipping away during the course of the day.

Emera eyed Lewis, twisting her coin pendant between her fingers, as her father counted out his expectations for the day on one hand. No talking to strangers, no running, no causing a scene, no bars, pubs or tap-houses, no tattoos, no piercings, no ritual animal slaughter of any kind, blah, blah, blah. It was nothing she hadn't heard before. And she knew perfectly well that none of it applied to Lewis. Only her. He could run and get pierced and sacrifice whatever sort of animal tickled his fancy just so long as she sat nicely with her hands folded while he did it. Emera nearly choked trying not to laugh at the thought. A fit of giggles would only get her sent right back to her room.

Finally, Emera was set loose upon the town under the watchful eye of Lewis. They walked in silence until they had rounded a corner and lost site of the Inn.

"Were you pressganged?" Emera asked, "Or did you volunteer?"

"To chaperone you?" Lewis asked, his smooth voice tinted slightly by his strange Barents Sea accent, "I'm always the first to volunteer. You know that."

Emera looked up at him with a smile. He was so tall that she barely came up to his shoulder. Lewis was leanly built, with long arms and legs that caused more trouble aboard ship than not. But his slender fingered hands were endlessly skilled when it came to carpentry. He looked down at Emera from underneath his wide-brimmed straw hat and returned her smile. Being from the Barents Sea, Lewis was excessively fair. Emera knew the Caribbean sun would burn him to a crisp without the hat, but that didn't stop her from occasionally teasing him about it. Today was not a day for childish gibes, however. He had, willingly or not, given up his time to traipse around after her all day. And that was no small thing.

Besides, she had no interest in discussing the merits of fashion. Particularly not while she was in the only dress she had brought with her from Clearwater Bay. It was a simple round gown made of blue cotton that was easy to store while on ship. Her breeches and shirt had been in desperate need of laundering, so the dress was her only option. Emera had gown up in dresses and gowns. She had only really started wearing breeches when she joined her father's crew. But she found that, with men, she could never win when it came to what she chose to wear. In breeches she was playing at being a boy and trying too hard. In a dress she was suddenly a fussy object of both ridicule and unsavoury attention. There was no middle ground.

Emera doubted that Lewis would tease her about it. In fact, he hadn't so much as commented on it. But opening up the possibility for an opinion was not something she planned on doing. She knew she looked odd in the dress. It was her hair that did it. Her linen cap and bergère did little to hide just how short it really was. In breeches and a shirt she could pass as a boy. In a dress, however, she had no such luxury. People stared as she and Lewis walked by, probably thinking that she had suffered some long illness and had to cut her hair as a result.

"Has my father planned anything exciting for us to do today?" Emera asked, desperate for distraction.

Lewis shrugged, "I wouldn't call it _exciting_. More like... proper."

Emera groaned. That meant tea rooms and gardens and, on one occasion, an actual landscape painting class. Just the thought of it was enough to bore Emera to tears. Would her father never relent? But at least she had a friend to slog through the day with. Anyone else would have made her sit in a corner while they played at cards or dice all day. And this did offer the chance to see more of Tortuga.

By noon, they had window shopped, toured a public garden, and listened to a talk on the old Governor's manor that was abandoned when the island became a Pirate port. It still lay some miles north of the town, despite the popular belief that it had been burned to the ground when the island became a Pirate haven. The whole thing had been very educational, but also rather boring. Emera, who had no interest in old architecture or old dates, was glad when it was over.

Now, they found themselves in a little bookshop. Emera browsed the tall, dark shelves that were simply overflowing with the volumes packed onto them. She ran her fingers over the leather and linen spines, only guessing at what lay inside. Lewis leaned against a shelf and leafed through a small book, studying the pictures inside with great interest. Emera was just about to pull a hefty green volume off the shelf when a person passed by the window and caught her eye.

It was Jack.

He saw her at the same time she saw him and the synchronicity made him smile at her broadly. Or maybe it was the way she was dressed. Emera's face went hot. And suddenly she couldn't help thinking about how tightly she and Jack had been pressed together into the alley nook only the day before. She hoped he wouldn't say anything about that particular moment in their acquaintance in front of Lewis as Jack came into the shop.

"Miss Flint, what a surprise to find you of all people in this... establishment." Jack greeted.

"It's a bookshop, Mr Sparrow." She offered.

"Captain." He corrected, his smile straining with a twitch of irritation, "And I knew that."

"Of course." She allowed.

Lewis had, by this time, put down his book and was now hovering just behind Emera. He reached around her, offering one hand to Jack in greeting.

"Lewis Perhson." He introduced himself.

"Gesundheit." Jack replied, staring at Lewis' hand for a moment before promptly pretending it wasn't there, "What's a place like this doing with a girl like you, Miss Flint? You struck me as..."

He glanced around the dark, crampt confines of the shop with a look of mild disgust and panic in his eyes.

"The more lively sort." He finished, voice strained slightly, wiping one hand across the front of his frock coat as though he had touched something rater unpleasant, "Come on, lets you and I take our leave of this place and go do something interesting, eh? I've got a puzzle you could help me solve."

"A fine offer, Mr Sparrow." Emera said, "But after our little adventure yesterday I've been forbidden from anything more _lively_ than this."

"Is that so?" Jack cracked a wide smile, a gleam of mischievous understanding coming into his eyes as he stage whispered from behind his hand, "Hence, the Goliath. I say we just ditch him."

Jack glanced up at Lewis with a wide, squinty smile.

"No offence, Mate." He told him, diplomatically, "Three's a crowed and all that. You see how it is. Miss Flint, shall we?"

Jack offered her his arm, enthusiasm and expectation plastered across his face.

"I can't, Mr Sparrow." She told him.

"Captain." He corrected, raising his eyebrows at her in what he probably thought was an enticing way, "And sure you can. It's easy. Let's go."

"Really, I can't." She hugged herself a little, "Even if I could, I'm not certain it would be all that good of an idea. You're trouble, you are."

"Only a little." He remarked smoothly, his dark eyes gleaming all the more.

"We should be going, anyway." Lewis said gently from where he still stood behind Emera, "Good day, Mr Sparrow."

Lewis offered Emera his hand and she took it, his long fingers closing around her own. He led her past Jack and out the door of the shop.

"Captain!" Jack called after them, " _Captain_ Jack Sparrow!"

Outside the air was made fresh and cool by the steady breeze that came in off the ocean. Lewis used his free hand to hold his hat in place as he and Emera made their way down the long cobbled street of shops. It took most of Emera's self-discipline to keep from back looking over her shoulder at the bookshop.

Despite the fact that she had landed herself into a world of trouble because of it, her afternoon with Jack had been the most fun she had ever had with another person. He was strange and a bit ridiculous and definitely not all together in the head. But he was also exciting and spontaneous and engaging. Chasing those feelings was almost tempting enough to risk being sent back home. If anyone could have convinced her to go rogue and disregard her father's decision, it would have been Jack.

Emera squeezed Lewis' hand once in appreciation before letting it go, and said softly, "He's a friend. But you... you won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Not a soul." Lewis promised, shoving his hands into the pockets of his breeches.

Dinner was had at a small cookhouse and consisted of spiced meats, dried fruit, and beer. After, Emera and Lewis wandered about the modest market square at the center of town. Stalls and vendors of all kinds offered up a wide variety of goods and produce. Emera and Lewis wandered the square at a leisurely pace, taking in the colours and sounds and smells. There was so much to see that it was nearly dizzying. One stall was packed to bursting with bottles and vials and pouches stuffed with spices. Sweet cloves and sharp caraway mingled in the air as Emera and Lewis approached the covered table.

Together, the two picked out a healthy supply of herbs and spices. Emmett, who preferred his cook-shed on _The Rose_ to any given port, would appreciate the addition of new flavours. And so would the crew. As Lewis packed up their purchase, Emera glanced down the row of stalls. Her stomach did a back-flip that threatened to send it spinning up and out of her mouth.

Jack was ducking and bobbing between the stalls further down the row. Was he following them? No, he was going the wrong way. And he was using anything and everything in his path as something to hide behind in the process. Emera couldn't help but stare. His completely unsubtle sneaking tactic was a beautiful disaster. She watched as Jack slipped around the side of a meat vendor with all the grace of a beached whale. He nearly took a whole table of pottery with him as he went. Her eyes still firmly locked on Jack, Emera groped around until she found Lewis' sleeve. Then she yanked on it until he turned. All she could do was point to where Jack was now shimmying between the next two tables along his unpredictable path.

" _Min Gud_." Lewis breathed, just as captivated as Emera was, "What is he doing?"

"I've no idea." She replied, shaking her head a little in bewilderment.

Emera knew that she was absolutely, with out a single doubt, going to end up following Jack. There was nothing she could do about it. Her sense of curiosity was ravenous at the prospect of unraveling the mystery that was currently shoulder-rolling not ten paces away. Emera wanted to kick herself. But it was already too late. Her legs started instinctively carrying her in Jack's direction, her hand still tightly bound up in the fabric of Lewis' sleeve. He followed her without complaint, happy to be dragged along as they tracked the erratic course Jack was plotting.

When they caught up to him he was trying to shoulder-roll between two stalls again. The roll dissolved into a sort of scrambling mess that carried him behind a display of fresh flowers. Emera watched in delighted horror as his hands parted the bouquets and his face appeared between the vivid floral arrangements of tiger-lily and amaryllis. In a flash he was off again, darting behind the next table, petals and leaves caught in his hair. Emera rolled her eyes and hurried after him, dragging Lewis along with her. She found Jack with his back pressed to a wooden beam supporting the awning over a vegetable stand. If he noticed Emera and Lewis following him, he didn't show it. The pair wove their way around the back of the vegetable stall until they were directly at Jack's side.

Emera gave Jack a sharp tap on the shoulder. A surprisingly dainty shout of surprise made its way out of his mouth before he could stuff the edge of his fist into it to stifle the sound. He turned on his heels, sending his frock coat dancing out around himself with the motion. When he saw who had startled him, he dropped his fist and frowned.

"Oh, it's you again." He sounded almost relieved as he turned back to look out across the market, "Reconsidered my offer, have you?"

He glanced over his shoulder quickly, eyeing Lewis.

"Seems unlikely, what with Goliath in tow." He remarked half to himself.

"We saw you from across the square." Emera told him plainly, "What in the world are you doing?"

"Following Anamaria." Jack replied as though it should have been obvious.

"Really?" Emera wrinkled her nose at him.

"Who's Anamaria?" Lewis asked softly.

"Shush." Jack waved him off.

"Don't tell him to shush." Emera snapt.

"Shush, both of you then." He flapped his hand at them, irritated, "You'll get us all caught. Look, she's on the move."

Emera looked where he indicated. Sure enough Anamaria, dressed in her sensible grey gown, was walking towards a table of antiques that sat at the end of the long row of displays. Jack's hand closed around Emera's wrist and he pulled her along behind him as he started off again. Emera, still holding on to Lewis, couldn't help but drag him along after her. The three moved in a clumsy line, causing far more chaos than Jack had when his mission had been a solo one. Jack led his new accomplices as he ducked behind the tables spread with produce and trinkets. Now with three of them, it was impossible for the ridiculous chase to go unnoticed by the other market-goers. Emera could practically feel the eyes of bystanders watching them as they attempted to navigate around the mild obstacles in their path. She could only pray that no one from her father's crew was present.

Finally, Jack let go of her hand and dropped to the ground behind a table selling old books. He proceeded to crawl, arm over arm, with his belly pressed flat to the cobblestones. When he realized that Emera and Lewis were just standing there watching him, he turned back to look up at them with exasperation on his face.

"Come on, then." He stage whispered, beckoning with his whole arm that they follow his lead.

Emera pressed a hand to her mouth in order to stifle a laugh as she dropped to her knees beside Jack. The result was that the laugh came out in a snort. And this only made her giggle into her hand all the more. Everything about what they were doing was completely unnecessary and counterproductive, but it was hilarious. She couldn't keep a straight face. Lewis, on the other hand, didn't feel the same way.

"I'm not doing that." He said flatly.

Jack narrowed his eyes at him, and stage whispered, "If you want to say, get down. I'll not have you ruin this for me."

Emera doubled over with the effort of trying not to laugh. Lewis sighed and crouched down, barely concealing his still significant height behind the table of books. Jack rolled his eyes at the lack of effort, but started off again. Emera and Lewis followed on their hands and knees, out-rightly refusing to belly crawl the way Jack was. Lewis because it was undignified and Emera because she was laughing too hard. The old man running the book stall looked down at them, utterly bewildered, as the three passed by his stool. Emera contained her giggles long enough to give the man what she hoped was an apologetic look before she completely lost her composure again. She fell into a snickering fit that only worsened when she saw how red Lewis' face had gone.

"Mr. Sparrow-" He grumbled.

"Captain." Jack corrected him sharply, irritated by the mistake, " _Captain_ Sparrow. Why is it so difficult to remember?"

Lewis opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by Jack flapping his hand again. Emera managed to mouth 'I'm sorry' between her silent giggles, which seemed to placate Lewis' annoyance. He smiled at her, still red in the face but looking for the first time like he was actually enjoying the nonsensical escapade. His soft brown eyes danced as he looked at her.

In the moment it took for them to exchange that glance, they'd completely lost Jack. One minute he had been rolling his eyes at the pair of them and the next he was flat out gone. Somehow, he had gotten a full stall ahead of them without either noticing. Lewis cracked another smile, fully getting into the spirit of things, and together they scrambled after Jack.

Emera, who had been crouching, stepped on the hem of her dress and landed hard on her bottom in the middle of the narrow walkway between two stalls. Lewis grabbed both her arms and heaved her behind the table Jack had just been behind. She collided with his shoulder, unprepared for the sudden movement, and nearly collapsed into yet another fit of stifled giggles. This finally set Lewis off. Together, they struggled to crawl even three feet as they choked back swells of laughter that only seemed to make them choke back more. When they finally reached Jack, he was waiting for them with his arms crossed. For an instant, Emera thought he was properly angry at her and Lewis. It sobered her up enough to crawl the last short distance to where he sat with his back resting against the side of a mango stand. But when she joined him she could see that there was amusement in his eyes.

"You two are worse than a pair of ruddy children, you know that?" He tried to sound stern, but the smile that hung around the corners of his mouth betrayed him.

"Sorry, Jack." Emera managed between the last few waves of giggles, added, "Did we lose her?"

"You two lost her. I kept pace until she turned down the wrong street." He explained, still trying his best not to smile.

"What would have been the right street?" Lewis asked as he straightened his hat with one hand.

"Not the one she went down." Jack said unhelpfully, then sighed, "Oh, well. Now, are the pair of you content to just sit there the rest of the day? Or do you fancy doing something a little more interesting?"


	5. The Map

Jack chatted merrily as they walked down a small side street, leading away from the market square. He was taking them somewhere that he guaranteed they would enjoy. Though, he refused to tell either Emera or Lewis just where it was they were going. He was adamant that it would 'ruin the surprise' and therefore 'make the trip superfluous.' Emera just rolled her eyes, giving in. She was happy enough to have him led them along, telling them all about an adventure he once had that involved the Governor of Nassau's oldest daughter. Emera listened with interest as he recounted the tale. He spared no detail and she found herself hanging on his every word.

"Then, abseiling out the third story window, I made good my escape. And that, my friends, is no small thing if I may say so myself." He looked rather pleased as he reflected on his own daring antics, "Though, I did scare the bonnets off a pair of maids when I went crashing in through the next window down. That's the trouble of abseiling, you see."

Emera laughed, and asked, "So then, what of the portrait?"

"No idea, never heard from her again. I'd like to think that she kept it, what with it being one of my better works and all." He mused.

"I don't believe a word of that story." Lewis said, the faintest of smiles pulling at one corner of his mouth, "You tell it well, but there can't be any truth to it."

Jack eyed him, brushing his fingertips over the scar that ran down across his right eyebrow, and said softly, "No truth, eh?"

Jack just smiled to himself and hooked his thumb into his redish sash. A sort of self-satisfied amusement lingered around his eyes. It was the look of someone who was happy to be the only one to know what he knew. Emera studied his face, fidgeting with her coin pendant, trying to decipher what that could mean.

"Ah, we're here!" Jack announced, and the odd look on his face was instantly replaced by one of enthusiasm.

'Here' was the rocky stretch of shore just east of the harbour. Emera glanced at Jack, but he only marched on towards the stony beach. He took the salt-stained old stairs that lead down to the rocks two at a time. Emera and Lewis exchanged a quick look as they followed hastily behind him. Jack picked his way across the uneven slabs of dark rock, his swaying gait actually aiding in his navigation of the rough terrain. Emera couldn't help but be delighted by the way he flung out his arms to keep balanced.

"You two," He called over his shoulder, "are slower than my old Nan. And she's missing both her legs. Heave to, you tar-footed layabouts."

Emera laughed and took Lewis' hand, "Come on, he's getting away!"

Lewis sighed, but couldn't quite keep the smile from his face. The two climbed over the dark rocks, making their way down the beach towards Jack who had nearly reached the shoreline. Lewis' long-legged strides concurred the distance in no time and Emera's agile feet kept her right on his heels the whole way. When they finally caught up to Jack, he was standing triumphantly atop a large, flat stone gazing out to sea looking, for all the world, like the hero of some play.

"What's so special about this beach that it had to be kept a surprise, then?" Emera asked him as she and Lewis joined him atop the rock.

Jack angled his face towards her, his mouth pulled into a crooked, knowing smile, "The view, Miss Flint."

They all stood together on the flat rock, looking out at the endless sea for a long, quiet moment. It shone in a thousand shades of blue under the vast Caribbean sky. In the distance sat the hazy shape of Hispaniola, like a great turtle that had risen of the depths. Emera had stood like this on the beaches of Clearwater so many times she had lost count. Standing before the great wide world like that made her feel small. It was such a big place. There were distant shores she had never seen, friends she hadn't made yet, adventures she had yet to have. And they all sat in the far corners of the world waiting for her. Calling to her like a siren's song.

When Emera glanced up at Jack again, he was looking at the place where the sky and the sea met along the endless horizon. His eyes gleamed with longing. Could he hear the call of foreign shores like she did? Emera knew that he could. There was a determination to his expression that seemed to say that he would answer that call. That nothing could possibly get in his way. Jack noticed Emera staring at him then and smiled. If she asked, would he take her to those distant shores? Emera turned away quickly and looked back at the sea. If they shared that look any longer, he would be able to read her mind and know how silly she was being. She played with her pendant and tried to ignore the way her face had gone hot.

"Well," She said, cutting through the silence that suddenly begged to be filled, "what are we going to do with this view now that we're here?"

Jack, still staring down at her, opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off.

"I saw some shells washed up between the rocks as we were coming down the beach." Lewis said, looking over his shoulder, "I wouldn't mind collecting a few to study. And collecting some of your own would be a good idea too."

Emera took his meaning at once. Shell-hunting was precisely the kind of docile activity her father would whole-heartily approve of. And if she and Lewis came back with arm loads of shells then they could argue against any claims regarding their whereabouts that might arise. Of course they hadn't been in the market crawling behind the stalls with a mad-man. How could they be? They had been shell-hunting all afternoon. It was perfect.

"We can use my bag." She smiled, shrugging out of it and setting it down on the rock for communal use.

Lewis' enthusiasm for shells was mirrored by Jack's complete lack of interest. He wandered off as Emera and Lewis scrounged between the rocks, staring off through his spyglass towards the harbour. Emera wondered if he was checking on whatever ship he had come in on. If she squinted and blocked the sun from her eyes, she thought she could just make out the shape of _The Rose_ where she was anchored in the bay. Really, Emera could have been looking at any of the countless ships that dotted the harbour. But she liked the idea that it was _The Rose_ and that somewhere aboard Emmett was singing to himself while he cooked. Emera tucked a white spiraled shell in her bag beside the spices she and Lewis had bought and smiled to herself.

For all his lack of interest in shells, it wasn't as though Jack was unoccupied. He would wander up and down the shoreline, muttering to himself, then go back to staring through his spyglass for long stretches. Finally, he sat himself down on a rock and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. He spread it out across the smooth surface of stone and set to studying it. Emera's curiosity, already piqued by this, simply couldn't resist when he waved and called her over.

"You're a learned sort of person." He remarked as she joined him.

"Aye, that I am." Emera replied, gathering her skirts to sit down beside him.

"If you recall, I mentioned having a puzzle for you to solve." He said, then asked, "What do you make of this?"

The piece of paper was dog-eared as well as worn from excessive folding. It was old too, the thick parchment yellowed from time. One corner was salt-stained, the ink blurring where it had at one time met water. But the rest of it was still clear enough. It took Emera only a moment to see that it was some kind of a map. A rough approximation of a coastline had been sketched out in thin, spindly lines of black ink.

" _Isla de..._ " Emera read the almost illegible words that followed the shape of the coast, " _la Tortue._ "

"Tortuga." Jack confirmed.

"This must be the northern coast." Emera traced her finger along the shoreline, "Else-wise, we could see the bay and harbour. But which part, I wonder?"

"That, Miss Flint, is the question I hope you will be able to solve." Jack replied.

A thought occurred to Emera then, and she asked, "Is this the map you stole from those two men?"

"Liberated." He corrected with a smile, "They didn't know what they had and were therefore deeply unappreciative of it."

"And what, exactly, is it we are properly appreciating about this?" Emera pressed, excitement bubbling just under the surface of her skin.

Jack leaned towards her, so that his face was close to hers, and said in an overly serious tone, "This, my dear Miss Flint, is the only map of Tortuga where you will find marked down a landmark lost to time."

'A landmark lost to time' sounded like something out of a myth or legend. Emera couldn't help but beam at him while countless possibilities ran wild through her mind. He held in his hands the start of some incredible adventure. And he wanted her opinion on it. Emera's heart beat so fast she thought it might fly clean out of her chest. Jack grinned back at her, still close enough to probably hear just how much her heart was pounding.

"Those two eriffs were looking to sell this for some unearthly sum as a collection piece." Jack scoffed at the very idea, "It would have sat, unused and wasted, in some parlor or library. A _conversation_ starter."

He pulled a face, sticking out his tongue in a mock gag as though the very idea was the most revolting thing he had ever heard.

"Ah, I see. Liberated." She laughed.

"Liberated." He agreed, recovered and smiling again.

"So, what is this landmark lost to time?" She asked, completely taken in by the prospect.

"You see here?" He pointed at a small drawing of a tower along the coast, "It's a Lighthouse."

"A Lighthouse?" Emera raised an eyebrow.

Jack nodded sagely, "A Lighthouse."

"And that's the landmark lost to time?" She pressed.

"Indeed, it is." He picked up the map and shook it out with a flourish.

"It must be special, then. What with your _liberating_ it and all." She urged.

Jack shrugged, playing coy, "You could say that."

"Treasure?" She guessed, all her self-control going into keeping herself from shaking his arm until he told her everything, "Lost treasure worth more than anyone can imagine?"

He flashed her that knowing smile again and said softly, "You'll just have to come along and see for yourself."

A thrill went through the whole of Emera's body, from her head to her toes, only to be snuffed out by the crushing reality of her situation. The weight of disappointment struck her square in the chest. It knocked the air from her lungs and the light seemed to go out of the day.

"I... I can't." She managed.

"You say that a lot, you know." He pointed out gently.

"I know." Emera ran a hand through her hair, "I wish I didn't have to."

"Then don't." Jack said, tucking the map inside the chest of his frock coat, "Come with me."

All she could do was look at him as she sat there with the crushing weight of disappointment thick in her chest. His dark eyes were so intent as he studied her that it was almost like he really could read her mind. Or maybe he could hear the way her heart was still pounding despite the choking weight still in her chest. Emera had never before been looked at the way Jack was looking at her now. He saw her. He understood the language of her heart. He felt as she did.

They were the same.

"Come on." He said, his soft voice only for her, "Come with me, Love."

He held out his hand. Did he know what he was offering her? The soft, tempting smile on his face said that he had some notion of it. She knew he wasn't asking her to sail away with him to the distant shores she had spent her life dreaming about. He was talking about one excursion. One small adventure. But it was an adventure all the same. It called to her, tugging at the yearning she had carried with her for as long as she could remember. He was offering her satisfaction, however brief. A chance to touch real freedom and feel it beneath her fingertips. Refusing him again would be enough to break her heart.

Emera steadied herself with a breath, then placing her hand in his, she said, "Alright."

Jack's small smile spread wide across his face, making his dark eyes almost dance. He squeezed her hand. Lightning, dazzling and vibrant, coursed through Emera's veins at his touch. This was the beginning of everything she had ever dreamt of. Where she had found the courage to accept, she suspected she would never rightly know. But sitting there, her hand in his, all the possibilities of a proper adventure streamed out before her. It felt right.

"Miss Flint," Lewis called from where he stood on the rocks some distance away, "it's getting late."

"He's right." She told Jack, "I should go. Can we talk more about this, this lost Lighthouse, tomorrow?"

"How about tonight?" Jack countered.

Emera thought for a moment. If she met with Jack tomorrow, she would either have to drag Lewis along again or else ditch him somehow. Neither of those options were very good. She looked to where Lewis still stood, waiting for her with her bag full of sea shells slung over one shoulder. She didn't want her recklessness to get him in trouble with her father. Somehow slipping away to meet Jack that night would not only protect Lewis, but it would keep her from losing her nerve at the last minute as well. She wouldn't have time to second guess her choice if her head was full of planing her late-night escape.

"Tonight." Emera agreed, "Where?"

" _The Gritty Keel_?" Jack suggested.

She shook her head, "My shipmates frequent it, apparently. We could be seen."

He hummed, a low sound from the middle of his chest, as he thought for a moment, then said, "Could you find your way back to the alley where we first met?"

"I think so." Emera nodded.

"Done." Jack smiled, squeezing her hand to seal the deal.

"Miss Flint?" Lewis called again.

"Aye, on my way." She called back.

She shared one last look with Jack. Then let go of his hand. As Emera picked her way back up the stony beach, she knew that she was making the right choice. She could feel it down in the marrow of her bones. When she joined Lewis at the salt-stained stairs, Emera looked back over her shoulder. Jack sat just where she had left him, gazing through his spyglass towards the harbour.


	6. Long and Complicated Stories

When Emera and Lewis had returned to the Inn, Captain Flint and a few of his men were gathered together in the dining hall. Emera had stood half behind Lewis as they greeted her father together. She was all too aware of the roving, mocking eyes that instantly flew to her dress the moment she entered the room. Her father, as he questioned them about their day, either didn't notice his mens' behavior or else didn't care. Emera supposed it was harmless enough. But that still hadn't stopped her from feeling uncomfortable.

Now, as she paced up and down the length of her room in her shift and stays her mind raced. Emera knew she had to come up with some kind of plan to get herself back out of the Inn. As she made another pass across the room she kicked at where her dress and petticoats sat heaped in a pile on the floor. Sea shells and spice bags lay tangled up in the fabric where she had unceremoniously dumped them out of her bag. She had to think of something soon. In the time it had taken her to answer her father's questions and gulp down a hasty supper, the sun had all but dropped behind the horizon. Tortuga's night life was blossoming beyond her window and soon the streets would be densely packed.

Jack was waiting for her.

Emera stopped pacing when she reached the window for the dozenth time and put both hands on her hips. Looking down at the street below, she noted that she wasn't that far off the ground. Yes, she was on the second story, but that was nothing compared to being aloft on a ship. Besides, she had climbed out of windows more times than she could remember while on Clearwater. She pressed her forehead against the smudgy glass and studied the drop. It really didn't look that far. And the window ledge looked sturdy enough.

She pulled on her clean breeches, weighing her chances of reaching the ground without twisting an ankle. As she shrugged into her shirt and waistcoat she fought back against the voice in her head telling her that what she was about to do was incredibly stupid. She knew the risks. She knew what getting caught would mean. As she pulled on one of her boots, she couldn't help but glance nervously at her dress and petticoats still heaped on the floor. Emera's stomach went squidgy.

There wasn't time to reconsider. She had made up her mind and now she was going to go through with it. Emera yanked on her other boot, got to her feet, slung her bag across her shoulder, and opened the window.

A second wave of doubt, stronger than the first, clung to Emera as she dangled from the window ledge. While it was still true that being aloft was far more dangerous than what she was attempting it was also true that Emera hadn't escaped from a window like this since she was thirteen-years-old. And this window was rather different from the one she had frequented in those days. For starters, this one had cobblestone waiting for her under it rather than thick, leafy island plants and soft dirt. It was remarkable how Emera had completely forgotten just how many times she had landed in those plants while attempting to climb out her bedchamber window. It hand't come back to her until she was already dangling helplessly over the cobblestones. If she fell, she would break her neck.

Jack would just have to spend the night wondering what had become of her. Emera pumped her legs, the toes of her boots scraping against the plaster of the Inn wall as she fought for purchase. She managed to throw one arm back through the window when the ledge let out the hollow groan of nails being pulled from wood. Every muscle in Emera's body was shot through with ice. The ledge snapped. And before she could even let out a scream of surprise, both of Emera's feet hit the ground. Her legs buckled under her weight and her bottom struck the cobblestone hard.

Looking back up at the window from where she sat sprawled on the ground, Emera finally realized the one flaw in the whole of her escape plan. Now that she was down... how on earth was she going to get back up again? Emera got to her feet and adjusted the strap of her bag. Getting back up would be a problem for future-her to solve. And there was always a chance that Jack would have an idea. She rubbed at her bottom where it had hit the cobblestone and started off into the night.

Jack was exactly where he said he would be. It had taken rather longer than Emera had expected to find the alley again. She hadn't exactly been paying attention the first time. But she managed to find it all the same. As she came down the alley, Jack leaned against the wall next to the narrow nook entrance studying his fingernails. When he noticed her, he looked up with a smile.

"Where've you been?" He asked, teasing, "I've been waiting ages, you know."

"I fell out a window." She replied.

He eyed her and said with a shrug, "Happens to the best of us, Love."

The alley was far too dark to study the map. So instead they sat on the steps of a nearby coffee house, using the lantern that hung over the door so they could both pour over the map. With their heads bent together they studied the shape of the northern coast trying to figure out which part of it the map depicted. Jack had brought with him a more modern map of Tortuga for comparison. But the old map was so specific to the area around the Lighthouse that little comparison could actually be made.

As they worked, the world of Tortuga's night life flourished around them. Emera could hardly keep her eyes on the map. While it was a fascinating puzzle, there was an endless array of excitement going on around her. People laughing and drinking and fighting and dancing. Every time she looked up she saw something new. Her attention was completely stolen by a performer who was tossing half a dozen empty bottles high in the air without dropping a single one. Jack had to nudge her with his elbow to get her to pay attention to what he was saying.

"Even just one landmark would-" He started again, but was cut off.

"By me a drink, sailor?" A pretty blonde girl asked as she came to stand before them.

It was entirely unclear whether she was talking to Jack or to Emera. She smiled at them both, one hand on her hip while the other held the skirts of her pale yellow gown up just above her knee. It took Emera a moment to understand what was happening. This girl wasn't just asking one of them for a drink. She was making a business proposal. As the pretty blonde girl made eyes at them, Emera felt her face go hot. This had never happened to her before.

Jack leapt to his feet, dropping the map onto Emera who was flustered beyond reaction. He wrapped his arm around the pretty girl's shoulders and flashed her the roguishly dashing smile.

"You'll have to excuse my friend." Jack cooed at the girl, his face close to hers, " _Inexperienced_."

He stage whispered the word, making a show of trying to spare Emera's feelings. He was, whether he had guessed it or not, right on the money. Emera had never so much as kissed someone before. And now she was entirely taken up by the possibility that this girl could wanted her.

"Well," The pretty blonde girl smiled down at her, "I know I could fix that."

Emera thought she might collapse in on herself. Her skin had gone prickly all over and her brain had stopped working properly. Even if she hadn't been done in, she wouldn't know how to go about accepting such an offer or even what to do once they were in a position to 'fix her inexperience.' She wished a wave would come and sweep her into the ocean.

Jack smiled all the more at the girl and said, "How very kind of you. Perhaps, once we're finished here, my friend and I will come and find you."

"I like the thought of that." The girl leaned in to Jack, pressing against his side, and winked down at Emera as she said, "Two teachers are better than one."

Her hand to God, Emera thought she would pass out.

Her insides writhed with flattered embarrassment and other feelings she wasn't familiar with enough to understand. And the fact that Jack didn't seem at all adverse to the idea wasn't helping. All she seemed able to do was stare at the toes of her boots. Jack sweet talked the pretty girl a little more and Emera was distantly aware of the fact that he was getting her information. She gave him her name, Giselle, and which establishment she worked out of so she could be found later. It took only a few moments and when the girl was gone Emera found that she could breathe again.

"You, my friend," Jack grinned at her as he sat down on the steps again, "have gone rather red."

Emera knew he was right. She could feel it. She buried her face in her hands, more embarrassed than she had ever been in her entire life.

"Did you, by any chance, see the legs affixed to that beauty?" He asked, teasing as he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the blonde girl through the crowd, "All flaxen hair and slender-necked."

Emera took a deep breath and managed to recover enough to follow Jack's gaze. The girl was extremely pretty. She had large eyes and a sweet mouth. Her features were softly angular with high cheek bones and a delicate chin. Emera cleared her throat and ran one hand through her hair, turning her attention back to the map that sat sprawled across her knees.

"By the by, you possess all the subtleties of a hurricane." Jack pointed out softly, nudging Emera with his shoulder, "You ought to work on that, Love."

"I'll try." Emera managed.

He laughed a little, a sound that came from deep within the center of his chest. It sent a thrill up the back of Emera's spine that made her breath catch in her throat. If a rogue wave didn't claim her soon she would just have to walk straight into the ocean herself.

"We could, you know, take her up on her offer." It was difficult to tell if Jack was teasing or not, "Once we've finished here, of course. What say you?"

Emera had to force her brain to work enough to say, "If I'm not back at the Inn before sunrise my father will send me back to his ship. I'm not meant to be out."

"Ah, well." Jack relented, still smiling at her, "A shame that. We'd best riddle this out and get you back, then."

Emera nodded and turned back to the the map. As she settled, she redoubled her efforts. If it had been drawn better, they might have been able to solve it without a problem. But it seemed to Emera that the thing had been made by someone who wasn't a cartographer. The rough approximation of the coast and the Lighthouse looked more like a child's drawing than an actual map. Perhaps the thing really was useless, fit only to be a conversation piece in a collection. But suggesting that to Jack would no doubt wreak havoc on his gag-reflex.

"Mr Sparrow-" She started.

"Captain." He corrected.

She ignored him and went on, "Why wouldn't you just sail around the north coast of the island until you find the Lighthouse? It can't be hard to miss. That's... sort of the point of Lighthouses."

"Firstly," He counted out his reasons on his fingertips, "because legend claims the Lighthouse can't be seen from off shore, else-wise everyone would know where it is. Secondly, it's well known that the northern coast is nigh unreachable from either land or sea. When I make that journey, I'd want to know exactly where it is I'm headed for. And thirdly, to undertake such an endeavor I would require access to a ship."

"A Captain with no ship?" Emera smiled at him, teasing.

"I _have_ a ship!" He protested, suddenly sharp, "And any blaggard what thinks he can contest that point will meet his fate at my hands! I _have a ship_! I just... don't have her... right now..."

In a flash his whole manner changed. He stared off into the middle distance, seeing something that Emera couldn't. A quiet sort of rage and desperation settled itself around his features. There was longing too. Longing like Emera had never seen. Longing that broke her heart. It took him a moment to come back to himself. He blinked slowly, focus returning to his dark, sad eyes. Then, a shudder went through the whole of his body. It was as though he were trying to shake something unpleasant off himself.

"Forgive me, Love." He said so softly that Emera had to lean in close to hear him, "Those words were not meant for you."

Emera gently placed her hand on his arm, "I know."

"It's..." He struggled to explain, "It's a rather complicated story. I'd rather not get into it."

Emera could only nod as she took her hand away.

Jack had gone through something awful. That much Emera could guess at. She knew the sea could be a place capable of breaking a person's body and soul. Those shining vast waters she and Jack and Lewis had looked out over could turn grey and merciless in a moment. And the life of a Pirate was one steeped in hardship, torment, and death. It haunted some people, following them all the days of their lives without ever relenting. Whatever had happened to Jack, it was haunting him now too.

In a motion so smooth and subtle Emera almost didn't see it, Jack reached into the folds of his waistcoat and wrapped his hand around his pistol. A patient kind of resolve smoothed over his features the instant the weapon touched his hand. It wasn't the gesture of someone intending to use it in that moment. He simply needed to be certain of it, needed to know it was there. And Emera couldn't help but wonder who exactly it was the pistol was meant for.

Then she thought that perhaps the reason he was without a ship was the same reason he had been on the island that sun-baked his mind. Emera quickly returned her attention to the map, pretending not to have noticed what passed between Jack and his pistol, and promised herself that she would leave it be. Her curiosity railed against her, but she kept it in check. Some things ran too deep to tolerate prying questions. It was none of her business. If he wanted to tell her, he would.

Something nagged at the back of Emera's mind as she (very deliberately) poured over the map. The little detail of a house that sat well inland from the coast seemed odd to her. Perhaps it was meant to be the town? On a proper map it wouldn't have been far south enough for that. But it could be the old Governor's manor.

"Look here." She pointed at the drawing.

"The town?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"The Governor's manor." Emera told him, "The building is still there and this drawing could be it."

Jack tilted his head to one side, "It is? How do you know that?"

"Before Mr Perhson and I ran into you today we attended a historical talk on it." She explained, "I... probably should have paid closer attention to what was said. But how was I to know it would come in useful?"

"Historical talk, eh?" Jack studied her, his expression doing enough to ask the question he hadn't put voice to.

Emera fidgeted with her coin pendent and said, "Aye, my father arranged it. Don't ask me how."

"The 'how' is not nearly so intriguing as the 'why', Love." He pressed, still watching her face intently.

Emera twisted her pendent between her fingers, decidedly not looking at Jack, as she said, "We get on so well, Mr Sparrow, I forget we hardly know one another. It's not a complicated story..."

She glanced at him, wondering if she'd hit her mark or not. Jack's teasing features softened with understanding and Emera knew her point had landed. She wasn't trying to be cruel. She didn't want to hurt him. She just hoped that echoing his sentiments would help him feel less alone in whatever it was he suffered from.

"... just a long one." Emera went on, "Maybe I'll tell it to you someday. When we have time."

Jack nodded, and said softly, "I'd like that."

Then he took the map from Emera's hands lightly and, twisting it this way and that, examined it for a long moment. His lips moved slightly with the edges of silent words as his eyes roved across the paper. Emera really could almost see the calculations forming in his mind.

Finally, he smiled and said, "Well, if we've only 'til sun's up we really should get to it."

He stood and tucked the map back into the chest of his frock coat. Then he offered a hand to Emera.

"Come on, Love. No time to waste." He told her.

Emera placed her hand in his as she got to her feet. He beamed at her, the promise of an adventure in his eyes. As they hurried off down the street together, hand in hand, Emera knew that she had made the right choice.


	7. Charting a Course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story briefly mentions the Caribbean slave trade and plantations in paragraphs 2-9. As a Caucasian individual living in Canada, I recognize that my ability to speak to this topic is limited and influenced by my privilege. If there is a way I could improve upon how I've handled this topic, please do not hesitate to inform me. I am always looking to learn. Thank you.

It took less time than Emera had expected to make it out of town. However, now that she and Jack were following along the old north road it seemed to be taking them forever to get anywhere. The way was badly overgrown from disuse and it turned and twisted back on itself far more than Emera thought necessary. Each time she paused to look over her shoulder she could still see the lights of the town. For all their steady walking, they had hardly put any distance between themselves and it. At this rate, it would take them all night just to get to the manor and back.

On and on they went, following the road through the open expanse of fields that bordered the low land where the town sat. Now and again they passed the bones of old building that had been abandoned and left to rot. The black shapes of small structures sat in rows as they gradually fell in on themselves. Nature had already started reclaiming the buildings and soon there would be nothing left. They loomed against the background of the star-heavy sky like ghosts in the night.

"Who lived out here, I wonder?" Emera said half to herself as they passed by another stretch of ruined buildings.

"Plantation workers." Jack told her, holding his lantern a little higher to throw its light as far as he could, "The ground here was good for tobacco. And tobacco is good for business. The old Governor brought in slaves to work the fields and made a small fortune for himself. Then Black Caesar and his band of Pirates came and all that ended. They killed the Governor and freed the slaves."

"Good." Emera shoved her hands in her pockets as they turned the next bend, leaving the ruins of the plantation buildings behind them, "How do you know all this?"

Jack smiled, "Historical talks."

Emera shoved him a little with her shoulder, "No, really. How do you know? The talk I heard said nothing about any of that. I would have remembered. It was just a lot of dates and dry facts. The Pirates responsible for turning the island weren't even named and there was nothing said about plantations."

Jack just shrugged, "The people whose pockets were lined with plantation money tell a different story, I'm sure. They always do. In their eyes it's just good business."

Emera almost didn't notice the way Jack flexed his right hand, rolling his wrist a few times, as though fending off an old twinge or ache. From the way he spoke, it sounded as though Jack had experience with the sort of people he was talking about. Emera was out of her depth. Of course she knew what anyone else did about these going-ons. However, her very privileged circumstances and upbringing made her a stranger to the finer points of the topic. She waited for Jack to go on, but he didn't. His expression was closed and far away. So Emera let the conversation go.

They walked on in silence for a long time after that, still following the road deeper and deeper into the heart of the island. As they went, it became less of a road and more of a narrow path that cut through the tall grass. Just when Emera was certain they would never reach their destination, the ruined form of a building rose from beyond the next hill. It's great shadow cut through the glimmering night sky like an inkblot. And the closer they got, the larger it became until it all but swallowed the stars.

The old manor stared down at them in a silent warning that chilled Emera to her core. She half expected to see a figure flit by in one of the windows as they passed under the shadow of the crumbling house. But she knew, she felt, that the house was as empty as a tomb. She thought back to the ghost stories she had listened to so eagerly only the night before. The crowded dining hall and the warm plate of food in her hands had made the phantoms of those tales pale shadows of thought and imagination. Here, at the foot of the empty manor, where the-long-since-dead had once lived, seemed a very different thing.

Inside the manor was just as desolate as it had been outside. The lantern light spilt across the tiled foyer and up the white plaster walls as Emera and Jack slipped in through the gaping front doors. The light caught on the debris that littered the large room, paper and dirt and rubble and smashed glass. The result of a house without people to tend to it. Emera could almost feel the former occupants lingering just out of sight in the darkened corridors, watching them as they crossed the foyer.

The silence of the manor pressed down on Emera and Jack as they mounted the stairs. It was the bleak, empty silence that fills the places where people ought to have been but weren't. Emera had grown up in a house very much like this one. She knew, by heart, how a house like this should function. And the after images of maids and footmen going about their daily tasks seemed to linger in the now vacant halls and rooms. As they reached the top of the stairs, Emera realized that her hands were resting against her thighs, her fingers bound up in nonexistent skirts as she held them up and out of the way of her feet. She rubbed her palms on her breeches to rid herself of the feeling. Perhaps old habits really did die hard.

The lantern light spilt down the stretch of corridor before them, making the white-washed chair rails and candle sconces dance with shadow. As they moved down the corridor, Emera gazed through the open doors of what was once a study or library. Books and papers littered the floor where they had been unceremoniously ripped from their shelves. Emera suspected that the smashed in windows and the island weather were to blame. But even through all the mess she was reminded of her father's study on Clearwater. She could almost see herself standing at the towering shelves as she took down the atlas, glancing at the door and listening for footsteps in the corridor.

Eventually, the two managed to find a servants' staircase that led up to the attics. And from there, Emera and Jack were able to climb up onto the roof. The night wind pulled at their hair and clothes the second they emerged from the hatch. It had an icy edge now that slipped under Emera's collar and stole the air from her lungs. As Jack looked out north with his spyglass, she hugged herself and tried not to think too hard about passing through the house again on their way out. Looking south, she could see the far off lights of the town waiting for their return.

It took Jack a long time to make his calculations. He stood like a statue, scanning the north coast through his spyglass. Then, with no warning, he would snap the spyglass shut and close his eyes. His fingers danced as they kept track of his mental calculations. And then he would go right back to staring through the spyglass or examining the map while still muttering to himself. Emera watched all this from where she sat huddled near the roof hatch. Back and forth he went, talking to himself softly as he worked through his erratic process.

Because the whole of the northern coast was cliff that fell down into the sea, the hope had been that, from the roof top, some other landmark could be spotted. And from that an approximation of where the Lighthouse was could be gleaned. Emera was good enough with maps, but she was no navigator or pilot. Her calling was the ratlines. She had both a good head for knots and agile, cleaver feet for climbing. It was best to let Jack work through his convoluted internal method of navigation alone.

"I've got it." Jack said finally.

Emera pushed herself up from where she was crouching and carefully joined him near the edge of the roof, "You think?"

"I know." He flashed her a smile and pointed out towards the coast, "It should be there."

"What's your point of reference?" Emera glanced between the map in Jack's hand and where he was pointing.

"Those trees there." He explained, indicating a small knot of palm trees, "And that rock."

The rock was a large boulder, probably the size of a carriage house, that sat some distance right of the tree cluster. The Lighthouse, based on where Jack had first pointed, should be somewhere below the drop of the cliffs between those two markers.

"They should be easy enough to spot from sea." Jack said with a shrug.

"When do you sail?" Emera asked, moving back towards the hatch.

" _We_ sail soon as I've arraigned transport." Jack replied, following after her.

They scrambled back down into the cramped attic while Emera asked, "And when do you think you'll have managed that?"

"Tomorrow." Jack replied.

The light from their lantern painted their own shadows across the walls of the tight servants' stairs as they descended. The dusty, broken steps groaned under the strain of Emera and Jack's combined weight.

"Am I correct in thinking that it will have to be a nocturnal voyage?" Jack asked, so close in the tight space that Emera could feel his words on the back of her neck.

She rubbed them away with one hand and said, "I should think so. Unless you want Mr Perhson to come along."

Jack made a kind of gaking sound in the back of his throat and said, "Not really. No offence to your... whatever he is. Friend? Sweetheart?"

At this Emera turned so quickly it made Jack flinch back. She opened her mouth to fight back, but realized in an instant that he hadn't been making fun of her. The hot, prickle of shame coated the underside of her skin and twisted her insides. On instinct she had assumed he meant to rile her up about Lewis the way the men of her father's crew did. Lewis was her friend, but because she was a girl and he was a boy that apparently meant that really they were pining after one another. It was the long running joke of _The Rose_ that had started the moment she joined. But of course, Jack wouldn't know that. He had just been asking a simple question. And now his eyes were all big and questioning as he angled his head to one side, waiting for her answer.

She forced her tone to be playful as she replied with a shrug, "Nanny. Jailer. Take your pick."

Jack smiled, "That certainly explains a thing or two, Love. All part of that very long story, is it?"

"It is." She nodded and then said softly, "But he's my friend, too."

Jack gave her a look that seemed to say he understood that there were complex factors involved and left it at that. By then they had reached the bottom of the stairs and started off back through the house.

The urge to look back over her shoulder clung to Emera like a spider's web. She didn't know why, but she was certain that if she looked back she would see some kind of horrible creature following behind them. It was the same sort of fear that had chased her back up the stairs from the cellar as a child, nipping at her heels as she fled. Every step she took down the dilapidated halls and corridors of the manor wanted to be faster than the last. But she forced herself not to run or turn around.

Jack must have felt it too, because he was also walking rather quickly down the stretch of corridor that lead to the main stairs. As they passed the study again, a dark shape danced across Emera's peripheral vision. It made her jump and, without thinking, she grabbed Jack's hand. Together they picked up their pace, their foot falls echoing through the hollow interior of the manor.

The sharp, solid bang of a large book hitting a wooden floor rang out from the study behind them. Jack let out a surprised yelp and a wave of lightning shot up Emera's spine. Without a single word between them, the two broke into a straight run for the stairs. They took the broken steps two at a time, still clutching hands, and pelted across the foyer for the gaping doors.

Outside, the cold wind from the roof top had come down into the front garden. Its icy hands pulled at Emera and Jack's clothes as it chased them out of the gate, trying to snatch the light from the lantern. Neither of them dared to look back as they fled back along the narrow path away from the ruined manor and the ghosts that lingered there.


	8. The Lighthouse Lost to Time

Emera made it to the Inn and back inside well before sun-up. She collapsed onto the mattress in her small room with a large grin on her face. She had done it. She had gone on a proper, honest-to-goodness, real life adventure. And it only made her crave even more. If she could have such a life, she would do anything and everything in her power to secure it. One night's escapade wasn't nearly enough.

Emera rolled onto her back and beamed up at the grimy ceiling. Tomorrow Jack would secure a boat and they would set off in search of the Lighthouse just after sunset. She could practically taste the salt air on her lips. As they had come back to town they'd worked out all the details. She was to meet him at the harbor as soon as she was able. And from there, they would sail around to the north side of the island. Emera was so excited she could have screamed. It took her ages to finally fall asleep.

The following day passed painfully slowly. More than once, as she and Lewis wandered around quaint shops, Emera glanced towards the harbour. Was Jack there already? Had he secured them a boat? She stole glances out the tea room window (as she discreetly picked the raises out of her tea-buns) at the masts that littered the sky beyond the buildings of the lower town. She could practically see Jack weaving his way between the moored vessels with his swaggering walk, tending to everything so that they could make sail.

Escaping the Inn for the second time went far more smoothly. Emera clambered out the window and dropped to the cobblestone with little hindrance now that she knew what to expect. The sun was still edging its way behind the horizon as she hurried down the long street towards the harbour. She had excused herself to bed early with a headache so that she could leave before it really got dark. Sailing around the island would take hours and if they wanted to do it in one night she and Jack had to leave as soon as possible. Emera knew, as she reached the docks of the harbour, that it was risky to sneak out so early. But everything had gone so smoothly the previous night that she couldn't help but feel dizzyingly confident.

It only took her a few minutes of wandering around to find Jack. He was standing in a modest fishing dory that was tethered to the far eastern side of the docks, fussing with the rigging. And Anamaria was sat in the boat next to him, watching his every move with calm scrutiny. Her practical grey day dress had been replaced with the loose fitting clothes of any sailor. And her hair was now braided in a plait that hung over one shoulder. She looked confident as she sat there supervising Jack. They seemed to be bickering back and forth. Anamaria corrected Jack's knots while he argued that they were fine. And while Emera was surprised to see the other girl, it was nothing compared to the surprise of seeing the boat they had chosen.

Emera's first impression of the fishing dory was that it was rather small. The whole of the boat was maybe fourteen feet in length. It had a single, square rigged sail and a tiller out the stern for piloting. Emera had sailed in similar boats all her life going between Clearwater Bay and Nassau. Of course she hadn't expected Jack to get his hands on a sloop or cutter. But she wondered how the little boat would handle the rougher seas that bordered the northern coast of the island. She could practically see the three of them, herself and Jack and Anamaria, being tossed around wildly as the boat was battered to pieces by ocean waves.

"Is this her, then?" Emera asked, mostly to let the still arguing pair know that she was there.

"Aye, this is her." Jack smiled as he turned to look at her, "What do you think?"

She tilted her head to one side and read the name painted across the back of the boat, " _The Jolly Mon_. Good name."

"Thanks." Anamaria gave her a nod.

"Can I come aboard?" Emera asked.

"Permission granted." Jack and Anamaria said at the same time, then stared hard at one another.

"This is my boat, Jack." She told him in a warning sort of voice.

"Aye, that may be so. But I'm still a Captain." He countered.

"Not on this boat, you're not." Anamaria crossed her arms over her chest, but smiled a little.

Emera stepped inside the vessel, which bobbed and swayed with her movements, and sat herself down near the mast. It seemed to her that Jack and Anamaria actually enjoyed arguing. They were both trying not to smile as they continued readying the boat. Emera supposed that they were somewhere in the process of making-up over whatever it was that had happened between them. She fell into step, fixing the knots Jack had tied much to his dismay and Anamaria's amusement. With three, the work was done quickly.

"I'll crew." Emera offered as she tied off the mainsail.

"And _I'll_ Captain." Anamaria beamed, plunking herself down at the stern and taking a firm hold of the tiller.

Jack looked like he wanted to argue that point as well, but shut his mouth and sat himself down beside Emera to help crew instead. A smile tugged at the edges of his lips as he fussed with the nearest blocks for no reason and Emera was certain that he and Anamaria had sorted themselves out.

They caught the wind, pulling away from the dock steadily. _The Jolly Mon_ glided out over the smooth water of the bay and cut through the gentle waves. For all her small size, the fishing dory was a sturdy old thing. She took the wind well and kept a clean line as they made for the western point of the bay.

The three sailed together like they had been doing it for the whole of their lives. They worked seamlessly, almost by instinct. It didn't take them very long to reach the point of the bay. And when they did, Emera seemed to know how they would take it. The wind shifted, the three adjusted for it, set their new course, and set off up the next stretch of coast. It couldn't have gone any better even if they had rehearsed it.

It was clean sailing all the way up the eastern strand of the island. Jack lounged against the starboard side of the boat with a self-satisfied smile plastered lazily across his face. Emera reached out the port side, letting her fingers graze the surface of the cool water as they swept along at speed. The air was thick with salt and the wind was warm. Behind them, the sun had sunk into the sea. The greenish haze of twilight painted the horizon while stars began to burst into life overhead.

"How is it you came by this boat, Miss Mercier?" Emera asked, leaning out over the edge to see the expanse of ocean that lay before them.

"It's one in our fleet." She replied, "Well, actually, it's one of three boats. But fleet sounds better. My sisters and I use them to smuggle cargo between the islands for my mother's business."

Emera loved the sound of that. And she couldn't help but envy Anamaria a little. Here was a young woman, not much older than she was herself, who had all the freedom that Emera had spent her whole life longing after. Anamaria was trusted to not only go off on her own, but to go off on her own and do important, dangerous work. She wasn't shackled to a chaperone under penalty of being exiled back to the island she was born on. Or at least, it didn't look that way from where Emera sat.

"It must be exciting." Emera said.

"It is. Especially when a certain Pirate has a habit of showing up and ruining my deals." Anamaria gave Jack a pointed look that was soft around the edges.

"I'll be on my best behaviour in future." Jack replied as he traced an 'X' over his heart with one finger.

Emera pressed her lips tight together to suppress a laugh and turned her attention to their progress. The harbour lay so far behind them now that not even the lights of the town could be seen. But they still had to make the trip back and with the wind where it was their return would be rather slow going. Emera hoped that they could maintain their good time and reach the Lighthouse quickly. She tightened the main sail, which had begun to luft while she was busy looking back across their stern.

When they rounded the next point the wind shifted again. This time it came down on them cold and hard from the north. It stirred up the sea until it was grey and rough under _The Jolly Mon_. Every stitch of Emera's being told her that there was no way the little fishing dory would survive more than a few second, let alone the full duration to the Lighthouse, on such angry waves. But when she looked at Jack he only smiled as the water came blowing in over the sides of the boat. Anamaria tightened her hold on the tiller and shouted over the roar of the sea for Emera to adjust the sails. She was already on it, setting them so they wouldn't tear under the sharpness of the wind.

A wave broke across their bow and water filled the air in droplets that stung like shards of ice. Emera was soaked to the skin. When she glanced back over her shoulder, Jack was drenched too. But he just kept smiling wildly as he hiked out the side of the boat to keep her level.

They sailed along side the sheer rocky cliffs of the island as waves tried to dash them into the stone. The further they went the larger the waves became until they tossed and battered the little boat. _The Jolly Mon_ climbed up the side of one wave only to be dropped down into the valley of the next. And water roiled over the sides and swept across the deck, threatening to pull Emera, Jack, and Anamaria into the depths.

How they managed to keep the little boat from capsizing, Emera didn't know. A particularly large wave slammed into the port side of the boat and broke across the deck. Emera glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Anamaria was still at the tiller as water streamed down every part of her body. She was soaked to the bone, but still holding tight to the tiller. Across from Emera, Jack was leaning out as far as he could to counter the weight of the wind in their sail. He smiled like he was having the time of his life. And as he smiled he spoke to _The Jolly Mon_. His voice cut in and out over the sound of the wind and waves. From what little Emera could hear, he was encouraging the little boat and bargaining with it so that it would hold together. And in that brief moment, as she watched him leaning over the rough grey water while speaking sweet nothings to the boat, Emera understood.

Jack Sparrow was the only person alive who could do what they were attempting to do.

If anyone else had tried to sail a little fishing dory along such a treacherous coast, they would have been bashed to pieces on the ragged cliff face. But not Jack. The sheer force of his will held the boat together and he smiled into the wind and water because he knew he had the blessing of some great heathen Goddess or a wealth of stolen luck on his side. Emera's doubts were swept away with the next wave that broke over their bow and was replaced by an unadulterated confidence that they would make it to the Lighthouse.

They had Jack.

"Look!" His strong voice cut through the roar.

Emera gazed along the line he was pointing and saw, rooted at the edge of the high cliffs that towered over them, the tangle of trees that were their marker. A little further down the run of the cliffs sat the carriage-house boulder. And tucked into an inlet, nearly invisible against the grey of the rocky cliffs that surrounded it on all but one side, was the ragged shape of a Lighthouse.

They made for it, guiding _The Jolly Mon_ through the last stretch of clamoring waves. The wind dropped as they sailed into the high-walled inlet and silence so deep a person could drown in it took its place. The little boat glided across the suddenly calm water towards the dark, looming shape of the stone Lighthouse. If she hadn't been soaked to her bones, Emera might have been able to imagine that they had sailed that smoothly the whole way. But when she looked out past their stern she could see the still roiling waves beyond the mouth of the inlet.

They ran ashore at the foot of the Lighthouse. The sky above was heavy with stars and light fell in through the top of the inlet, bathing the old tower in shades of silvery-blue. It stood like a ghost against the rough cliffs, silent with some sort of expectation Emera could only guess at. The gallery, where the light mechanism would have been, had fallen in. Hopefully, the rest of the tower would be easy to explore. The three gazed up at it for a long time from the rocky shore at its base.

Emera wondered if the others felt as small as she did with the height of the Lighthouse standing above them. She glanced at Jack. He gazed up at the tower, absentmindedly twisting the gold ring that sat around the little finger of his right hand. There was something in his dark eyes that Emera couldn't place. Not fear or anticipation, but something else that sat just in between.

"What's up there?" Emera asked softly.

Jack shrugged, trying to look casual and failing.

"We didn't sail through raging waters for nothing, Jack." Anamaria said, her gentle voice filling the whole of the inlet.

"What's up there? What is it that you're after, Mr Sparrow?" Emera pressed.

He sighed and looked at her with the long-suffering expression of an underpaid nanny, "How you could sail with me through those rough waters and still call me 'Mr Sparrow' is beyond me. Is Captain really so hard?"

She ran a hand through her sopping hair and returned her attention to the great looming tower.

"You're changing the subject." She told him, pretending to study the grey stone with interest.

"Am I?" He asked, his voice full of humour.

Anamaria nudged him in the ribs, "Just answer the question _Captain_ Sparrow."

"It is said," Jack began with a smug smile, "that the kiss of a Mermaid will save a man... or a woman - or I suppose anyone, really - from drowning. It is also said that a drop of Mermaid's blood will protect a person from all harm while at sea. They cannot die. And they cannot be killed."

His voice echoed against the cold stone walls of the inlet as he spoke, filling it up with his words.

"When I was in Saint Dominique not long ago, I heard a story about a Pirate and a Mermaid who fell in love." He went on, "It goes that she loved him so much that she gave him a single drop of her blood encased in a Gem. That way, he would always be protected from harm while at sea. The Gem made him invisible and he became a great Pirate Captain whose riches could fill three Spanish Galleons. But his love of treasure was nothing compared to his love for the Mermaid. And so, he used all his great riches to build this Lighthouse. That way, they could always be together."

"And the Gem?" Emera asked, trying to ignore the way Jack and Anamaria were looking at one another.

Jack flashed a broad smile, "It was hidden away somewhere in this very tower."

"Well, then." Anamaria nodded a little towards the Lighthouse, never once looking away from Jack's face, "We'd best find it."

He grinned, "Couldn't agree more, Darling."

With that, he took the bow lantern from _The Jolly Mon_ and set off towards the tower. Together they climbed up the rocky shore to where a door sat in the base of the Lighthouse. It was salt-stained and swollen in its frame from years of exposure to the sea. All three of them had to lay into it with their shoulders again and again in order to get it to budge. When it finally move, it groaned against the floor of the Lighthouse. Shoving with all their might, they only managed to open a small gap before the door wedged fast against the uneven stone floor. Emera, Jack, and Anamaria had to squeeze through the narrow gap to get inside.

The interior of the Lighthouse was draped with a darkness the light of the stars couldn't reach. Like the abandoned manor, its stale air was hung with the silence of a place that had been left undisturbed for too long. The light from _The Jolly Mon's_ bow lantern fell across the stark little room. Stairs had been built along the curved tower wall, spiraling up and out of the reach of the lantern-light to the living quarters and fallen-in gallery above. The three stood in the center of the little room for a moment, back to back to back, gazing up at the darkness above them and wondering what awaited them.

Jack took the lead up the spiraling stairs, lighting the way with the lantern. Emera followed behind and Anamaria took up the rear. They picked their way up the long, curving steps with care as they dripped sea water onto the time-smoothed stones. Emera watched Jack's shoulders as he climbed a head of her, thinking about what he had said about her calling him Captain. She could see his point. But even still, she couldn't bring herself to call him that. Before, it had felt ridiculous to refer to him by the title since he was only a little older than she was and probably lying. But she still couldn't manage it even though she knew he was mostly telling the truth about his rank. Or at least his level of skill. Captain Sparrow didn't feel any better than Mr Sparrow. But she had to call him something.

She tapped him on the shoulder and said softly, "About what you said earlier, would it be alright if I just called you Jack?"

He looked a little surprised by the question, blinking a few times over his shoulder before he cleared his throat and said, "Of course, Love. If you like."

"I'm Emera, by the way." She said, uncertain if she had ever told him her first name.

"Emera." He repeated, seeming to almost savour the sound of it.

On _The Rose_ she was always called either 'Master Flint', 'Miss Flint', or just 'Flint' plain and simple. Only Emmett and her father ever called her Emera, but they did so rarely when on ship. It felt a little strange to hear Jack say it, but the sound of her name on the lips of a man she wasn't related to was nice. She wondered, for a moment as she still looked at him, if it felt the same for him to hear her speak his own name.

Behind them, Anamaria made a gagging noise, but was smiling when they turned to look at her, "Can we get a move on? You too can bond in the boat on the way back."

"You're just jealous I have other friends." Jack teased, making a face at her before turning to continue up the stairs.

"You see right through me, Jack." Anamaria's voice dripped sarcasm bordering on laughter, "I'm endlessly jealous of your friendship with Miss Flint. In fact, I'm planning to steal her away all for myself."

They all laughed at this, their voices filling the hollow air of the Lighthouse.

Emera looked over her shoulder with a smile, "You can call me Emera too, if you want."

The other girl beamed at her, "And you can call me Anamaria."

"Splendid." Jack announced, mounting the last few steps, "Now that we're all close friends we can get to work."

The Lighthouse's living quarters were tightly packed and dusty. And the whole of it was illuminated by the light of the bow lantern in Jack's hand. Rubble from the collapsed gallery blocked any possibility of climbing higher and littered the little living space. A cot bed had been pushed up against the curved wall and a table sat next to it. If Emera stood in the center of the room and stretched out both her arms she might have been able to just graze the walls with her fingertips. She certainly could have placed both palms flat on the ceiling without even having to stand on her toes if she wanted to. It was a claustrophobic kind of room. But at least there was a long, narrow window that looked out towards the mouth of the inlet and the sea.

"With a treasure like the Gem," Emera said half to herself as she examined the little room. "a person could rule the seas."

"With a treasure like that," Jack set the bow lantern on the small table, and turned to look at her, "a person could be _free_ for the whole of their lives. Nothing, _not even death_ , could touch them. They would be all but immortal. And they would be free forever."

There was a hungry sort of weight in Jack's eyes as he spoke. Not greed, but desperation. He didn't just want the Gem. He needed it. That same heart-breaking longing that fell across his features when he had mentioned his ship settled into his face now. Would having the Gem somehow make up for whatever it was that had happened to him? Emera fought hard not to put the pieces together, but her mind worked too quickly for her to stop it. Jack had, at some point, been left on an island. He was also heart-sore over the fact that he no longer had a ship. A ship that he still considered his. And now he was searching for a Gem that would protect him from all harm while at sea. Emera forced herself to to stop thinking about it. If Jack wanted her to know the story then he would tell her.

"So how do we find it, then?" Anamaria asked.

Jack's smile nearly hid the longing in his eyes. He reached into one of the pockets of his frock coat and pulled out a black box. It was no larger than the palm of his hand and looked rather weather beaten. Deep nicks and scratches marred the domed lid and the decorative silver inlays around the edges. Emera watched as Jack flicked the box open. In side, it was a compass. The round mechanism spun this way and that with the motion of having been opened.

"We find it with this." Jack said, looking pleased with himself.

"Oh, no!" Anamaria brandished one finger at Jack, "I'm not doing this again! You keep that cursed thing away from me, you understand?"

"Don't be so superstitious, Love." Jack put one hand on his hip and stared at her plainly, "We've been over this."

"Aye, we have. And I'm not going anywhere near that thing." Anamaria moved until her back was pressed flat against the stone wall beside the window.

Cursed or not, it was still only a compass and Emera couldn't see how it would help, "How is a compass going to find a Gem? Is it a lodestone or something like that?"

"My dear Emera," Jack smiled all the more and came to stand close beside her, "this is no ordinary compass."

Anamaria rolled her eyes and crossed her arms tight over her chest. But Jack's voice was so alluring that Emera hung onto every word he spoke. She could barely take her eyes off of his face, even when he pressed the compass into her hands. He closed her fingers around it so that she held it tightly.

"This compass is unique." He went on, "It points to the thing you want most. And what you want most..."

He took his hands away from hers and opened his arms in question, waiting for Emera to finish his statement.

"Is to find the Mermaid's Gem." She beamed at him and stared down at the compass in her hands.

She couldn't believe it. But the mechanism whirled around in circles, twitching this way and that as though it were trying to figure out what it was that she wanted. As Emera watched it make up its mind, Jack slowly backed away until he stood on the other side of the window against the curved wall. It was as though he wanted to give the compass as much room as possible. As though his being near it would confuse the poor thing. It slowly made up its mind, twitching a few more times until it decidedly chose a direction. When Emera looked up, it was pointing directly towards the narrow slit of the window that both Jack and Anamaria were flanking.

"There!" Emera pointed, surprised by how loudly and excitedly she had said the word, "It's pointing there."

Jack practically threw himself at the window. He ran his hands along the sill and jamb, feeling for catches or notches. Anamaria followed suit and Emera rushed to help too. Together they searched every line and edge of the window. Perhaps there was some kind of secret hiding spot? A loose stone that the Pirate had used to conceal the Gem behind? They probed and prodded and poked everything they could with trembling hands. Anamaria pressed a smooth, round stone in the sill and it gave a sharp, satisfying click.

The three leapt away from the window all at once and held their breath as they waited for something, anything, to happen. But nothing did. The window simply sat there, unaffected, as they stared at it.

"Well, that was anti-climactic. You're sure it pointed here?" Jack asked.

Anamaria moved to press the round stone in the sill again and again, but still nothing happened.

"Aye, positive." Emera examined the compass again.

Sure enough, it pointed straight towards the window even with Jack leaning in over Emera's shoulder. He put his hands on her upper arms and twisted her around, this way and that, as he studied the compass. No matter which way Emera turned, the compass always pointed in the same direction.

"I don't understand it." Jack said as he spun Emera in a tight circle, "This should have worked. Anamaria, move away from with window, would you Darling?"

She did, but nothing changed.

"Maybe its me?" Emera offered, and held the compass out to him, "You should try it."

Jack jumped away from the thing like it would bite him and pressed his back against the curved wall again, "No, no, Love. It has to be you."

"Why?" She frowned a little, still holding the compass out to him.

Jack made a sort of high whining sound in the back of his throat as he thought, then said all at once, "Because Anamaria won't do it and what I really want most isn't here in this room. It's out there."

He jabbed a thumb towards the window.

"That's why I brought you along. Though, it's not the only reason! I'm not using you just for this. Or for anything! Honest!" He went on, talking so quickly he almost couldn't keep up with himself, "But the compass wont work for me. Leastwise not to find the Gem. And we get on so well, you and I. I and you. Us. So I thought, here's a nice girl about to run mad with boredom. She's good in a fix and sharp and not bad to look at. Why not bring her along? You certainly need the company Jackie. Someone else for you to talk to, you see. After all, its been so long."

Here he trailed off, his lips fluttering as he tried to find the right words to continue. He stared into the middle distance in a sort of daze. And Emera couldn't help but wonder if he was remembering the island. In a flash he was off again, though.

"No offence Anamaria. I do enjoy your companionship, but I didn't think you'd actually come along. I'm glad you did, though." He plunged on, "Anyway, Emera, I figure since you're keen for a spot of treasure hunting maybe the compass would work for you. Particularly since Anamaria won't touch the thing. I just figured that we'd find the Gem, have a grand ol' time doing so, and the three of us would stay fast friends forever. Savvy?"

It took Emera a moment to process everything he had said. She blinked a few times as she turned over his many words. Jack glanced between her and Anamaria, chewing the nail of his thumb, with big, nervous eyes.

"Right." Emera said slowly, "So, let me see if I understand this. You hoped to find the Gem by getting me to use the compass because I seemed so keen on finding a lost treasure?"

"Yep." Jack nodded, thumbnail still in his mouth.

"And you can't use the compass because it only points to the thing you want most. And what you want most is not the Gem, but something else entirely?" She went on.

Jack nodded again, "Yep."

Anamaria stared at the compass still in Emera's hand as though she were afraid it would burst into flames. Emera couldn't really blame her. Knowing that she was holding an other-worldly object made her skin buzz a little. It was something unexplainable and strange, like the stories of ghost ships and mermaids and the Devil's Triangle. But, just like those things, Emera found it painfully alluring. She needed to understand how it worked.

"What exactly is this compass supposed to point to, Jack?" She asked.

"The one thing you want most," He told her, "in the whole world."

She twisted her pendant necklace between her fingers as she thought about this, "Well... then of course it wouldn't work for me either. The one thing I want most in the whole world isn't the Mermaid's Gem."

She glanced down at the compass and understood.

"It's not pointing at the window, Jack." Emera said softly, "It's pointing at the sea. What I want most is the freedom to go on my own adventures."

"But the stone I pressed," Anamaria said, returning to the window sill, "is some kind of release. We all heard it click into place. That has to mean something."

"Maybe it connects to something in the Gallery?" Emera shrugged, looking up at the rubble wedged into the opening that would have once allowed them to pass that way.

"Aye, maybe. But it would take an army all night to shift that much rock." Anamaria said softly, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand.

"And chances are whatever was up there was crushed when the ceiling caved in." Emera agreed.

"Still, maybe there's a way we could get in." Anamaria tried to look out the window, but it was too narrow for her to lean out of, "We could scale the outside of the tower."

"With what?" Emera joined her, looking out and down at the stretch of Lighthouse that sat below them, "I don't think _The Jolly Mon_ has enough rigging to cover that distance."

"I've plenty of spare rope in the forward hold. But pulling apart the boat to make some kind of climbing rig will take ages in the dark." Anamaria explained, "Jack, what do you think?"

The two girls turned away from the window to look at him. Jack had sunk against the wall so that he was sitting on the dirty floor. His dark eyes were wide as he stared off into space again. He hadn't heard a word they had said. He just sat there, distant and unseeing in an all consuming daze that hung about him thickly. Emera frowned for a moment, then she understood. His whole plan had revolved around her being able to use the compass. Without a proper lead, finding the Gem by chance was unlikely. Even if they spent the whole night tearing the Lighthouse apart stone by stone they would never find it. And now Jack was coming to terms with the fact that all his plans for the Gem were slipping though his fingers against his will.

"I'm sorry, Jack." Emera said softly.

Without shaking his daze he murmured, "Nothing to be sorry for, Love. Not your fault."

Emera and Anamaria shared a glance. Then, without a word, Anamaria joined Jack on the floor. She tucked her arm through his, lacing their fingers together, and leaned her head on his shoulder. Emera leaned against the little table. The solid weight of disappointment fell over them as they sat together in the cramped room. They had come so far and now it seemed that they would have little choice but to go back empty handed. What that meant for Jack, Emera and Anamaria could only guess.


	9. An Offer Made

"Maybe if we all held the compass and concentrated on the Gem we could trick it into working?" Emera said, thinking out loud more than anything.

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that, Love." Jack murmured, leaning his head back against the stone wall.

Emera raised her head from where she had been staring hard at the floor to look up him. Jack had managed to come out of his heavy daze, but the gears of his mind weren't turning to find a solution to their problem like Emera had hoped they would. Instead, he just leaned against the wall, disheartened by their failure. Emera's heart ached for him as though his defeat were her own. She watched as Anamaria reached up and brushed a strand of Jack's hair away from where it clung to the corner of his mouth, still damp with the sea. Jack leaned his face into her affectionate hand.

"This was meant to solve everything." He told her softly, "But it was just another in a long line of fool's errands."

"We'll think of something." Anamaria replied, brushing her thumb along his cheek.

"Maybe it was always a misguided idea. Maybe all of it is. I should just accept my fate when the time comes." He went on.

"Don't you talk like that." Anamaria cupped his face between her hands so that he was forced to look at her, "Don't you ever talk like that. This is not the Jack I know."

"The Jack you knew is dead and gone. He died on that island. I watched it happen." His voice was hung with such melancholy as he spoke about himself that Emera couldn't stand to listen.

Besides, the conversation had gone beyond her depth of understanding. They were talking of things now that had happened long before Emera had come into the picture. Things that didn't really concern her. Not really. She shifted against the table, wishing she could give the couple more space. She tried not to listen to the way they spoke in hushed tones to one another as she wandered back to the window. Their heads bent together, they made a small world of their own while she stood idly by.

Emera turned her attention back to the little room. It seemed odd to her that a Pirate Captain of exceptional wealth would have lived in such a barren place with his Mermaid lady-love. There were no personal items or luxuries of any kind. Only the little table and the cot. Emera studied them where they sat. Perhaps all the rest had been taken by someone who had found the Lighthouse long before Emera, Jack, and Anamaria had gotten there. Perhaps that someone had taken the Gem too. Or perhaps it had never been anything more than a story, a tall tale told in the hopes of earning a free drink or two. Emera had to accept this, despite all her conviction in Jack's supernatural ability to sail impossible waters. With a sigh she slouched down against the wall until she too was sitting on the floor.

And that was when she saw the shape of something laying under the cot.

"Look." She breathed.

Neither Jack nor Anamaria heard her.

"Jack." Emera scrambled over and grabbed a fist full of his frock coat, shaking his shoulder, "Jack look. Look there."

The whole of his attention captured, he glanced at her with his eyebrows raised. Emera pointed. Jack and Anamaria had to scrooch down to see what she was indicating, Jack tilting his head so far to one side that he was nearly upside-down. When they saw it they looked back at Emera for a single beat. All at once, without a word between them, all three scrambled across the floor on hands and knees.

Emera reached the cot first and plunged her arms underneath to retrieve whatever it was. Anamaria sprawled out flat on her stomach so that she could see while Jack all but dove clean under the cot. With all three of their heads now under the small bed, they could see that the shape was the raised lip of a floorboard. Jack pulled it up the rest of the way and tossed it unceremoniously to one side. The plank clattered against the floor where it landed. Emera reached inside the compartment the plank had been covering and closed her fingers around something bundled in old cloth. She pulled it out and passed it to Anamaria who, of the three, was the only one that hadn't wedged herself completely under the bed. By the time Emera and Jack managed to scooch back out from where they had stuck themselves, Anamaria had the cloth bundle unwrapped on her lap.

Emera and Jack leaned in close over her shoulders as she wiped the dust from the cover of an old book with one hand, making Emera sneeze. There was nothing unusual or significant about the book on the outside. It was ordinary, bound in simple brown leather that had cracked in places over time. Anamaria opened it slowly, careful of its age, and began gently leafing through its contents. Inside, the pages had swollen with moister and salt, making them rough and brittle. They were covered in a steady, even handwriting as well as small drawings. It was a Log Book of some kind. From what Emera could understand of the writing, it was a record of daily activity.

"Lit the beacon at dusk. No ships seen." Anamaria read allowed, translating the old French.

As they flipped through the pages the handwriting seemed to become more hurried. The fine, regular letters grew rushed and crowded as the author raced to get them down on the paper.

"The rock - the Gem - is not safe here. They are coming for it. I... must put it away where they... will not find it." Anamaria went on, either struggling with the hurried hand or the old dialect.

Emera couldn't make out more than a word or to of it herself. The already unfamiliar letters were muddied where they had once been wet. But Anamaria plunged on.

"Isabeau... must have it. She... will keep the... keep this... treasure safe." She concluded.

"The Gem was here." Jack said softly.

"It would seem so." Anamaria glanced over her shoulder at him, "But I'm too rusty to make out much more of this. We need a translator. Bridget Hale could do it. She lives on Nassau and studies old languages. She could do it."

"Really." Jack considered this, rubbing his fingers over his chin as he continued to examine the Book.

"Look at this date." Emera said, pointing at the panicked numbers scrawled at the top of the page, "April something. Does that say 1673?

"I think so." Anamaria leaned low over the page to see better.

"That's some forty years ago. There's no telling what could have become of the Gem in all that time." Emera pointed out gently.

Jack flashed her a broad smile from over the top of Anamaria's head, "Aye, but this is a start. We shall just have to find out for ourselves what's become of it. Won't we, Love? Decode this and track it down."

"We?" Emera stared at him, "You mean all of us? You want me to go with you?"

"Of course I do." His smile softened, as though he thought it sweet she would ask.

Between them, Anamaria nodded where she still stooped low over the pages. Emera's stomach twisted itself into a hard knot. Her mouth ran dry. She hadn't expected this. Not at all. She had just assumed that after tonight her part in Jack's story really would be done. And here he was offering her more. It both thrilled and pained her.

"Jack..." She struggled to find the right words, "I'm sorry. I can't."

His expression faltered, but he managed to hold on to his smile, "You and I have been through this once already, I think. Don't say the things if you don't wish to say them."

"Jack, it's not that simple." She told him.

"It was before." He pointed out, raising his eyebrows a little as he fought to keep hold of his optimism.

"Aye, but it isn't anymore." Emera replied as gently as she could, getting to her feet so as not to keep crowding Anamaria.

She moved away towards the spiraling steps and Jack followed. He stood so close that she could feel his breath on her face.

"What's this all about?" He asked, keeping his voice low.

"Before... that was just agreeing to a few nights of sneaking out and exploring the island." Emera explained, matching his volume, "What you're offering now is completely different."

"It doesn't have to be." He pressed, eyes intent on her face as he spoke, "Not if you decide it isn't."

"It if were up to me to decide I would go with you in an _instant_." She took his hands in hers, "But I don't get to decide. I'm not like you, Jack. I'm not free. Much as I wish I were."

He squeezed her hands as his expression became more serious than she had ever seen it, "Then you make yourself free. You take your freedom right out from under those that are holding you back."

Emera took in the intensity of his eyes and understood that for Jack it really was as simple as all that. He had made a choice to be free and never once looked back. She wondered what kind of life he had left behind. If there was someone out in the world who loved him and missed him and still hoped that he would one day return to them. She glanced at Anamaria and wondered if that someone had been her. If that was why she and Jack had been on such unfriendly terms only a few days ago.

What Jack was suggesting to Emera now was a deeply romantic notion. It was like something out of one of the stories she loved so much. The idea of taking her life into her own hands and shaping it as she wished was so tempting it hurt. And the way he looked at her made her believe that she could do it. That she could do anything.

"I can't." She breathed, "Jack, I can't. You don't understand what you're asking me to do. What you're asking me to give up. My father, my family, my home. If I left them like this it would be forever. It would break their hearts and I could never go back."

"But you aren't happy!" He persisted, struggling to maintain a whisper, "I can see that you aren't, Emera. I've seen the way you looked at the sea. You said so yourself, what you want most is the freedom of adventure. You _belong_ out there. With me."

"With you?" She pressed, fighting the urge to glance back over her shoulder at Anamaria.

"With me." He replied, taking in the curves of her face with heavy eyes.

All at once, Emera's heart seemed to be trying to crawl its way up and out of her chest. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her like that. And her thoughts fell back to what he had said during the hurried explanation of his original plan.

_'We get on so well, you and I... So I thought, here's a nice girl... She's good in a fix and sharp and not bad to look at.'_

Had he really meant all that? He had been talking so quickly that he probably had. And now he was looking at her in that way he did. In that way that no one ever had. Emera didn't know what it meant. Could he feel how fast her heart was beating?

He must have been able to because he said, "I know you're scared. But we'll do it together. I can teach you to be a _real_ Pirate and you'll become exactly what you've always wanted to be."

The implication that he could somehow teach her how to be the sort of person she dreamed of being rubbed Emera the wrong way. She understood his meaning, but she didn't like the way he said it. As though Jack knew her better than she knew herself, despite his only having met her a few days ago. Irritation buzzed under her skin and she pulled her hands out of his.

"I'm perfectly able to become 'what I've always wanted to be' meself, thank you." She countered, "Trailing around after you and clinging to your sleeve while you 'teach' me sounds little different than what I'm already doing. I don't need you to become my second father and that's what you'd be doing if we go on as you suggest. Your way. His way. What about _my_ way? That's what I want, Jack. The freedom to do things my own way. Can you understand that?"

He was quiet for a long time as he considered all she had said. Then he smiled a little and Emera thought she saw something like pride in his eyes.

"You're right." He said softly, "You ought to do it your way. In your own time. But if you ever change your mind someday..."

"I'll find you." She finished for him, unable to keep from smiling a little herself, "And you'll likely regret your offer. Because you won't be able to shake me for love nor money."

The pride in his eyes bloomed into something deeper, and he beamed all the more at her, "I doubt very much that I'd ever regret making this sort of offer to you, Love."

Emera felt her face going hot and suddenly became very interested in the toes of her boots, "Well, then. I'm glad we got that sorted."

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but Anamaria made another gagging noise and cut him off. Emera and Jack simultaneously stepped away from one another as they looked at her. She stood clutching the Log Book to her chest, her free hand braced against her hip and a knowing smile on her face.

"Not to interrupt another of your bonding moments," She teased, "but we should probably go. Unless, of course, you two need even _more_ time to profess your undying friendship and loyalty to one another. I can wait."

Emera couldn't help but glance at Jack, trying not to smile as she said, "I think we're finished."

"Aye." Jack agreed, still beaming at her, "Let's go."

With the Log Book safely stowed in Emera's shoulder bag, the three began their decent back down the stone steps. The way had become slippery from the water they had carried with them as they came up. They nearly lost her footing more than once as they picked their way back down to the base of the tower. Try as they might, they couldn't get the Lighthouse door shut again. It scraped and dug into the stone floor with a grip Emera, Jack, and Anamaria couldn't break. In the end, it had to be left partially open.

As they pushed away from the stony shore, Emera looked back at the grim shape of the Lighthouse. She wondered what kind of life the Pirate and the Mermaid had while they lived there. If they had been happy. And who it was that so desperately wanted the Gem that it had to be sent away. Her chest ached with the knowledge that she may never find the answers to any of her questions. But Jack and Anamaria would. And there was some consolation in that. Perhaps someday they would meet again and the two would tell her everything they had learned.

The moment they sailed passed the mouth of the inlet the wind caught them in a sharp, side-long gust that tried to yank the sail clean from the mast. Emera and Jack had to play a sort of tug-of-war with the rigging in order to keep everything where it ought to be. Anamaria piloted the little boat just as skillfully as she had before, but the inky waves clambered over the sides of _The Jolly Mon_ with a vengeance. Water swam around Emera's ankles and seeped into her boots and clothes with icy fingers that somehow managed to reach bone.

They had sailed little less than a third of the distance back along the northern coast of the island when a particularly determined surge of water forced its way across their bow. The whole nose of the boat went under, plunging Emera, Jack, and Anamaria into sudden darkness. The bow lantern had either been extinguished or lost, but which, Emera wasn't certain. The bow of the boat resurface only a few seconds later, bringing with it a new rush of water. Had it been this cold before? Emera's whole body shook as she tried to get her bearings in the dark.

"Alright, Love?" Jack called over the sound of the violent sea.

"Just fine." She and Anamaria both called back at the same time.

It didn't take very long for Emera's eyes to adjust to the darkness of night. Besides, the sky above was still heavy with stars. Their light washed over _The Jolly Mon_ , turning the little boat and everything in it that ghostly pale shade of silvery-blue. Between the stars hung the smallest edge of the new moon with the old moon still in her arms. It gleamed above them like the edge of a silver piece. Under a moon like that it was no small wonder that the sea was so treacherous. A Mermaid's Moon in early spring meant storms and rough seas. Emera prayed that their way back wouldn't see them dashed upon the rocky cliffs.

Pounded by water and blown through by wind, _The Jolly Mon_ pressed on towards the eastern point of the coast. The black shape of the cliffs stood silently to their left and watched as the little boat fought to make progress. Even though the three sailed together like they had been born to it, the sea railed against them until they were barely holding their line. They fought against the constantly shifting wind, which kept changing it's mind without any kind of warning. But they could see the point now. They were nearly there.

The slighted brother of the wave that took their bow lantern decided to toss the little boat to one side just as the wind shifted. Jack and Anamaria both yelled for Emera to act as a counter weight just as she scrambled up the port side. But she couldn't get there fast enough. It rose high in the air, plunging the mast and sail into the choppy depths.

Emera was swallowed up by the icy darkness of water. It pressed against her, trying to squeeze out what little air she struggled to hold within her lungs. Her eyes burned with salt as she tried to get her bearings. Some ingrained instinct from having grown up around boats told her that the key was not to panic. But she couldn't see Jack or Anamaria through the inky water. Where were they? The sharp, electrical hand of panic tried to crush the air from her as she blinked against the water. She had to get back to the surface. But which way was it?

She let out a thin, measured, fraction of a breath. The air caused bubbles to erupt out through the water. They raced back past her face and through her hair. Ah, so then she was facing down. Emera twisted around in the water and let out another stream of air. These bubbles raced away from her. Up was that way. She swam, clawing at the water and hoping she could make it.

The surface broke in a rush. Air surged into her begging lungs, making her cough and splutter against the water that tried to pull her under again. Blinking, she could see the drifting shape of _The Jolly Mon_ some meters away from where she was. Emera made for it.


	10. The Departure

"Jack!" Emera cried, her voice small against the noise of the rough sea, "Anamaria!"

A wave rolled across her as she swam for _The Jolly Mon_ , sinking her for a moment before she surfaced again.

" _Jack!_ " She screamed again.

Panic choked her as she tried to reach the hulking form of the boat where it was sprawled on its side. It had been pushed out by the relentless waves and was now drifting in considerably calmer waters. But if Jack or Anamaria had gotten caught under the wreck, they could still be submerged. Emera's mind whirled with horrible thoughts as she managed to reach _The Jolly Mon_.

"Jack!" She screamed, her throat and nose burning with salt, "Anamaria!"

"Here!" Came Anamaria's voice from over the waves, "I'm here!"

Emera spotted her where she clung to _The Jolly Mon's_ exposed keel and swam for her. They came together with clasping hands and cries of relief. The two hugged tight for one quick moment before letting go so as not to sink below into the icy depths.

"Where's Jack?" They asked at the same time as they held onto the keel.

"I didn't see where he landed." Emera said.

"Neither did I." Anamaria gazed around the wreckage, her brown eyes full of worry.

With only a quick glance between them, both girls began shouting for their lost friend. Together, their voices carried much farther over the roar of the sea than they had alone. Emera's throat burned with strain and salt. But finally the faint sound of Jack's reply reached them.

"I'm here! Hurry! Hurry! I'm here!" His voice was full of uncharacteristic fear.

He sounded as though he were somewhere on the far side of the wreckage. Together, Emera and Anamaria swam around the boat to where the port side was angled upside down above the grey-black waves. Emera could only barely see him between the over-turned deck and the inky surface. He was fighting to keep his head above the water, his arms working almost frantically.

"I'm caught on something!" He called as he spotted them over his shoulder.

"Right." Without a second thought Emera took a breath and ducked under.

She could barely see through the darkness and the sting of salt. She had to feel her way, groping ahead of herself until her fingers collided with what she was pretty certain was Jack's leg. From what little she could see and feel, it had been ensnared by a length of the rigging. He struggled against it, thrashing his legs almost wildly, which only made the rigging hold onto him all the more. Emera guessed that the weight of his now water-heavy frock coat wasn't helping any either. She surfaced, coming up beside Jack under the up-turned deck. Anamaria had one arm wrapped around his chest by then, keeping him afloat by bracing him against her own body as best she could while she treaded water.

"I see it." Emera told them, "Stop kicking and I can get you free."

And with that she was down again. Emera angled herself carefully so as not to get caught by Anamaria's steady kicks or Jack's still somewhat frantic ones. When she squeezed the place just above his knee to let him know where she was, Jack nearly stopped kicking all together. Emera worked quickly. Her fingers picked at the mass of rigging that clung to him in greedy tendrils. She pulled it away from him, not bothering to untangle it so much as make enough space between the coils so that Jack's leg could be slipped out of them. She worked until her lungs begged for air and finally she had to surface.

"It's still got me!" Jack panicked despite Anamaria's firm hold on him, "I'm still caught!"

"I know. I've almost got it. Just hold on." And Emera was down again.

The swaying body of the rigging had already started to close in on the progress Emera had made. It twisted and turned with the motion of the water like the tentacles of some great squid. She forced it apart again, pulling length from length. She reclaimed her progress, broke for air, and dropped back under to finish the job. As she struggled with the loop around Jack's ankle, his panic got the better of him and he slipped from Anamaria's grasp.

Emera felt him sink. He panicked and started kicking to go back up, ensnaring his free foot in the coil of rope still around his one ankle. That set him off. He thrashed, clawing at the water as he was dragged down further and further. Emera grabbed a hold of his legs, wrapping herself around them so that he wouldn't kick her and knock the air from her lungs in his struggle. Jack went completely still then. Though, whether that was because he had gone unconscious, Emera wasn't certain.

She wrenched at the last length of rope which was now tightly around his calves. It came away and she pulled it down over his boots. Pushing the rope to one side, she cast it out to drift through the murky water. Then, Emera pulled herself up behind Jack and wrapped one arm tightly around his chest. She swam him up to where Anamaria had ducked under and passed him to her. All three surfaced at the same time, coming up in a gasping rush of water.

"Jack?" Anamaria tilted his head back and into her shoulder, putting her arm around his chest again in order to hold him.

He coughed and gasped for breath as he leaned against her, his eyes still wide with deep-set fear, "Is it done? Is it done?"

"Aye." Emera found one of his hands and squeezed it tight, "It's done."

"You're alright." Anamaria reassured him, kissing the side of his brow, "You're safe now. You're fine."

He looked anything but fine. They bobbed along the surface of the water for a long time while collectively catching their breath. Jack leaned into Anamaria, his gulps of air fluttery and sharp as his panic subsided. Emera gave his hand another affectionate squeeze before letting it go slowly.

After he'd calmed enough to speak again, Jack said, "We need to right the boat."

There was a tone of quiet urgency to the way he separated himself from Anamaria. His nerves had settled enough to keep himself afloat, but the shadow of panic still clung to him as the three set to work.

They had to push _The Jolly Mon_ so that she would be facing the right way when she started to right. This took some time and some doing. But eventually they got her into position. Then, all three clambered up over the exposed hull of the boat in order to cling to the edge of the raised port side.

"Now!" Anamaria called.

Together they all leaned back as far as they could, pulling the port side of the boat down with their combined weight. The Jolly Mon strained against the water's hold as it slowly tipped back the right way. When the sail broke the surface, the whole boat snapt back up and dumped the three down into the water again. Emera gripped the side of the boat, thankful that the procedure had gone so smoothly. Jack scrambled back into the boat and pulled Anamaria in after him. Then he leaned over the edge and hoisted Emera up by her arms, pulling her in as well.

The three collapsed against the deck together, soaked through and gasping for breath again. Emera lay on her front. Her face pressed into Jack's upper arm where he was sprawled on his back beside her. And Anamaria lay on Jack's other side, her head on his chest and his arm wrapped around her. Above them the wet sail luffed uselessly against the wind. Water pattered down from it over the soaked boat and its sodden passengers.

Emera watched as Jack reached with his free hand into the folds of his clothes, searching for the butt of his pistol. He must have found it still tucked into his sash, because he let out a shaky sigh of relief and shut his eyes tight. But even with the comfort of his pistol under his fingertips he trembled all over. It might have been from the chill of the sea, but Emera suspected it had more to do with the fear that had over taken him so fully when he had been caught in the rigging. She wanted to let him know that everything would be alright. That they were safe. But she couldn't make herself speak. So she simply squeezed his arm with one hand in what she hoped was a comforting way.

A long moment passed, filled only with their greedy gasping and the wet lufting of the sail above. Then Jack let go of his pistol and found Emera's free hand. He squeezed it, holding it tight, as he turned to her.

"You," He managed, still breathing hard, "saved my life."

She could only nod in reply.

Jack closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of Anamaria's head, "You both did."

"I've never seen you so scared." Anamaria mumbled into the front of his sodden frock coat.

"I was nearly pulled down with a ship once." Jack said softly, eyes still closed.

He left it at that with no further elaboration. For once, Emera's curiosity didn't whine to know more. It simply slotted this new piece of information in with what little else she knew about Jack's history. He had survived being pulled down by a sinking ship. A sinking ship that may or may not be the same one he was so heartsore over being separated from. He had spent some amount of time, all alone, on an island somewhere. And now he was desperate to find a magical Gem that would protect him from all harm while at sea. The facts worked together to form a narrative in Emera's mind.

As she connected the wayward pieces of his life, Jack's eyes snapt open suddenly and he looked at her. For a fraction of a second, Emera wondered what was wrong. Then the same paralyzing thought crossed her mind.

"The Book." They said together.

In one motion they both sat up. Anamaria was brought along unwittingly in Jack's haste. Together, Emera and Jack reached for the bag where it was still slung across Emera's chest. When Jack pulled out the Log Book, which dripped with water, Anamaria let out a soft gasp. Its pages were sodden and stuck together when Jack tried to open them.

Emera covered her mouth with one hand, "Its ruined."

Jack frowned, a soft pleading look in his eyes as he turned it over, and shook his head a little, "No, it'll be alright. It has to be."

Emera wasn't certain if he was trying to convince her and Anamaria, himself, or the Book. But she knew he didn't believe what he was saying. She could see it in his eyes as he studied the water-logged Book. It would take a miracle to salvage the squelchy mass of paper that sat between his hands.

They all knew it.

By the time they docked at Tortuga's harbour, the sun was already creeping above the horizon. It felt impossible that so much time had passed. Emera tied off _The Jolly Mon_ as Jack and Anamaria bailed water in heavy silence, each taken up by their own thoughts. To have gone through all they had only to destroy the Book left a bitter taste in Emera's mouth and a hollow feeling in her chest. She watched Jack as he moved to fuss with ropes, but she couldn't even begin to guess what might be going through his mind. And the same dazed disappointment that had taken him in the Lighthouse hung about the edges of his face now.

"What will you do, Jack?" Emera asked, wrapping her arms around herself against the chill that clung to her wet clothes.

He forced a smile and looked up at her, "Oh, I'll think of something to be sure. You can count on that, Love."

Emera twisted her coin pendant between her fingers as she turned over a great many things. There was a very real possibility that she would never see Jack again once he left to continue his adventure. Taking his life style and the size of the world into consideration, she knew that their chance of crossing paths again was slim. Anamaria would go with him and so Emera would likely never see her again either.

Standing on the dock as her two friends set _The Jolly Mon_ to rights put into perspective just how separate Emera was from their lives. They would pursue adventure and excitement. And she would return to _The Rose_ and the careful watch of her father. Emera knew she probably wouldn't be able to hide the fact that she had snuck out from him. She was, after all, dripping with sea water before the sun had even come up properly. She smiled a little to herself. Maybe she would say that she had woken early and gone swimming off the docks. She doubted that would work. But whatever the ramifications, she knew she wouldn't regret the choice she had made.

Jack smiled at her then and said, "That offer still stands, you know. You could come along."

"I know." Emera nodded.

She found it hard to look at him all of a sudden and instead watched the way the green-blue water gurgled up between the boat and the dock.

"Some day." She promised him, making herself glance up again.

He flashed her that smile of his, "Some day."

Anamaria made another gagging sound as she reached out to Emera and said, "Honestly, what is it with you two?"

Neither were able to come up with a reply. Emera took Anamaria's hand to steady her as she stepped out of the boat and onto the dock. Jack scrambled out after her, taking Emera and Anamaria's free hands to guide his way. And for an instant, all three stood on the dock in a small circle with their hands clasped tight. But the way Jack and Anamaria were looking at one another suddenly made Emera feel rather out of place. She dropped their hands and thumbed her coin pendant as the other two drew close together. When they kissed, Emera looked away completely. She returned her attention to the water between _The Jolly Mon_ and the dock as though it were the most fascinating thing.

When they finally parted, Emera said a little awkwardly, "I should probably be getting back."

She shot a quick look towards the town and her insides squirmed at the thought of returning to the Inn.

"And we should make sail." Jack said as he smiled down at Anamaria.

"We?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

Jack made a humming noise in the back of his throat and nodded, "You know. Decode the Book, follow the trail, find the Gem. Sooner we get started, the better."

"And what makes you think I'm going with you?" Anamaria frowned a little, "I have a life, Jack. Responsibilities. My mother relies on me. I can't just walk away."

Jack blinked down at her a few times, as though he were having trouble comprehending what she was telling him.

Then he nodded his chin towards Emera and said, "You're as bad as she is, you know that?"

He glanced over Anamaria's head and shot a wink and a more than cheeky smile at Emera.

"Well," He relented, "it would seem there's really only one major issue with your not coming along."

"And what would that be?" Anamaria asked.

"You're the only one with a boat." Jack chewed his thumbnail as a guilty expression settled in around the corners of his eyes.

Realization hit Anamaria, "You wouldn't."

"I'm afraid I am." He admitted before flashing her a broad smile.

In one smooth motion Jack broke from Anamaria's arms and leapt past Emera into _The Jolly Mon_. The little boat wobbled with his sudden weight, sloshing cold water up over the side of the dock. Both Emera and Anamaria jumped back as their legs were struck by the small wave. Jack seized the opportunity of time and loosed the mooring line before either girl could recover to stop him. Drifting away from the dock, he pulled the sail tight and caught the wind.

"Jack!" Anamaria's voice filled the air.

"Sorry, Love." He called over his shoulder, "I'll bring it back without so much as a scratch."

He traced an 'X' over his heart with one finger. Then he pressed both his hands together in a gesture that existed half way between a bow and a prayer. Emera watched, astonished and a little bit impressed, as _The Jolly Mon_ pulled further away. As she followed Jack's progress down the length of the dock she discovered that she was still wearing her bag. She shrugged out of it.

"The Book!" Emera yelled, holding it up for him to see.

"Oh, bugger." He swore.

Emera lobbed the whole bag at _The Jolly Mon_.

"Don't help him!" Anamaria exclaimed.

But it was too late. The bag flew out over the water and nearly shorted the boat. Jack stretched out over the starboard side as the bag plummeted towards the water and for one horrible moment Emera was certain he wouldn't be able to catch it. In a frantic, fumbling grab Jack managed to save it just before it plunged into the deep. Emera let out a cheer and Anamaria shoved her a little. They watched as Jack slung the bag across one shoulder with a confident, dashing smile. Then, looking at Emera, he touched the hem of his bandanna in a kind of salute.

"Ta very much, Love." Jack called to her, "I'll send you word with what I find out."

"You'd better." Emera called back.

"You're as bad as he is, you know that?" Anamaria snapt, "No wonder you get along so well."

She chased Jack down the length of the dock, shouting for him to bring her boat back. Jack only called over his shoulder that he couldn't hear her, but that he'd return it eventually. When she reached the end of the dock Anamaria could do nothing but stand there. Emera joined her, feeling more than a little guilty for her part in his get-away. She supposed, now that it was too late, that Anamaria could have used the Book to force Jack back to shore. But there was nothing to be done about it now. Together they watched as _The Jolly Mon_ carried Jack out across the bay. The sun was up and it painted the world in shades of hazy gold that swallowed up the little boat as it sailed off.

"I don't know how I'm going to explain losing my boat to my mother." Anamaria said half to herself, "Though, since I'm stranded here, that's really the least of my trouble."

Emera thought for a moment, then said, "Do you see that ship?"

Anamaria looked to where Emera indicated a dark coloured schooner that sat anchored in the bay with its dusty sails reefed.

"That's my father's ship, _The Rose_." Emera explained, then said, "If you like, we can take you with us when we set out in a few days."

Anamaria raised an eyebrow in consideration, "You're offering me passage?"

Emera nodded. She knew it wasn't much and that it wouldn't make up for the lost of _The Jolly Mon_. But, she rather selfishly hoped that Anamaria would accept. It would be nice to have another friend, in addition to Lewis, on board.

"What's your heading?" Anamaria asked.

"Along the coast of Hispaniola to Leogane." Emera explained, "Then from there to Port Royal, up to Santiago, and then finally back home to the Bahamas."

"You can drop me off at Port Royal." Anamaria said with a soft smile.

By now, _The Jolly Mon_ and Jack were long gone. Emera hoped that he would be able to salvage enough of the Log Book to find the Gem. And she hoped that he really would be able to tell her all about it some day. Emera and Anamaria walked back down the length of the dock together as Tortuga woke up. People of all sorts took to the streets to go about their routines. When Emera and Anamaria reached the Inn, Captain Flint was seated on the front steps waiting for them. He regarded Emera with an exasperated sort of look in his eyes. She knew that she was still sodden through and a mess to say the least. But all the same, Emera smiled to herself.

"I can explain everything." Emera said, and she linked her arm through Anamaria's as confidence sunk into her bones.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story. And thank you to everyone who took the time to favourite, follow, comment, etc. It always makes my day.
> 
> Do we still do disclaimers? Pirates of the Caribbean, Captain Jack Sparrow, Anamaria, and all the other recognizable bits of this story belong to Disney. Emera Flint and her lot belong to me. The Caribbean belongs to itself.


	11. Epilogue

Emera wandered down the familiar stairs of the Inn. It had been a month and a half since her adventure with Jack and Anamaria and she had seen a handful of other sea towns in that time. Leogane, Port Royal, and Santiago. But Tortuga held a special place in her heart.

"Miss Flint?" The woman behind the main counter asked as Emera came around the corner.

"Aye?" She paused.

"I've a message for you." The woman said with a pleasant smile, "It's from a young Captain who was here about a week ago."

"What is it? What did he say?" Emera's heart leapt within her chest.

"It was very odd." The woman thought for a moment, "He said: Look in the place where we first met."

Emera's heart flew through the roof of her chest.

"Thank you." She called over her shoulder as she ran for the door.

The sun-filled town was just as she remembered it, but she hardly had time to take it in as she pelted down the street. She found the alley in no time. And the narrow entrance to the nook was waiting for her. Emera peered inside. How she and Jack had ever fit into such a small space would always be a mystery.

Wedged between two stone bricks in the wall of the nook was a folded piece of paper. She beamed as she carefully pulled it free from where Jack had stuck it. Her hands trembled with the excitement rising in her as she unfolded the paper. He had said that he would send word and tell her all he had found out from the Log Book. And Emera had laid awake countless nights wondering what he had learned and if she really would ever hear from him. Now, her questions were about to be answered.

A sweeping, muddled scrawl covered the inside of the note. She smiled. Jack's handwriting looked just like he did, charming and messy. And it read:

_Dearest Emera,_

_I will be in Nassau within the week (trusting that you get this in a timely manner.) There is a tavern there called the Mermaid's Song that I'm fond of. Its rather fitting, don't you think? Perhaps I shall see you there before very long. I've much to tell you. And I'd like your help with something._

_Yours ever,_

_Captain J. Sparrow._

_P.S. What do you know of Masquerade Balls?_


End file.
